The Flip Side
by DracoMalfoy456
Summary: When he was a child, Stanley Pines was his closest and best friend. When he was a teen, Stanley Pines was the screw up who ruined his life. When he was an adult, Stanley Pines was the man who pushed him into that portal, subsequently trapping him in a life of unspeakable horrors. Sometimes, Stanford wished he could be a child again.
1. Chapter 1

Hey everyone, I'm back!

If you're here, that means you've shown an interest into my story, The Flip Side. That's great! One thing you need to know before reading is that this is a companion piece to my other story, The Life of Pines, which follows Stanley's life. This story can be read by itself, but there are moments that won't make all that much sense unless you've read the other story.

This story pretty much will follow alongside Stanford Pines' life, telling his side of the story.

And... that's it. Remember to review! Constructive criticism is welcome.

General disclaimer: I own nothing. The characters all belong to Disney and Alex Hirsch, as well as whoever else lays claim to them.

* * *

 _~~~Two birds of a feather~~~  
_ _~~~Say that they're always gonna stay together~~~  
_ _~~~But one's never going to let go of that wire~~~  
_ _~~~He says that he will but he's just a liar~~~_

 _-Two Birds, Regina Spekto_ _r_

* * *

When he was a child, Stanley Pines was his closest and best friend.

When he was a teen, Stanley Pines was the screw up who ruined his life.

When he was an adult, Stanley Pines was the man who pushed him into that portal, subsequently trapping him in a life of unspeakable horrors.

Sometimes, Stanford wished he could be a child again.

~XoxoxoxoxoxoX~

Stanford grinned shyly out at the crowd, waving hesitatingly towards the small group that was gathered at the edge of the room. He felt his heart warm when he saw the majority of his family cheering loudly amongst the rest of the audience.

Twelve years old and excited, Stanford turned back to the judge, thanked him politely, and walked off the stage, shiny trophy in hand. He made his way through the crowd and into his mother's waiting arms, placing his trophy on the ground so he could wrap his arms around her.

"Great job, Fordie! Knew ya could do it, my little genius." She smiled, for once paying attention to something other than her business. He smiled back, pulling away a second later.

"Yeah! Great job, Ford! You're so smart!" He heard his little brother pipe in, bouncing up and down excitedly. He blushed slightly at the compliment, though he could feel his heart swelling with pride.

He turned away from them then, and turned to face his father, who was standing at the edge of the group, looking tall and imposing. He waited with bated breath for the man's opinion, knowing that his praise meant more than his mother's or little brother's combined. A second passed, before his father nodded once with his approval. Stanford grinned brightly then, knowing that that small nod was pretty much a resounding cheer from his father.

It was as he was turning to look for the last member of his family- the most important one- that he felt someone tackle him from the side, nearly causing him to topple over from the surprise weight. He stumbled backwards a bit, though he managed to catch himself before he fell. He didn't mind though, feeling as his grin widening even more, his heart beginning to soar as he turned into the unexpected embrace.

"Ya won! I knew ya would, Sixer! Told ya that ya had the best invention in the whole state of New Jersey!" He could hear his twin shout into his ear, making him wince a little, but not enough to try and escape from the hug. His twin always was very excitable, but Stanford loved that about him. A second later, though, his brother pulled back, a grin stretched wide on his face.

"Thanks, Lee." He breathed, too elated to say anything else. His brother's praise had always meant the most to him, more than even his father's.

To say he was happy would have been an understatement. He had been preparing for this day for weeks now, feeling the anticipation mounting with each day that passed. After all, he had been chosen to present his invention- a little robot that would sort through different papers- at the state science exhibit. He had spent hours every single day for two weeks straight working on his robot, trying to make it as perfect as he could. And now, here he was, a trophy to prove that he was smart. That he was more than just a freak. The weeks and weeks of little sleep and nerves had all been worth it.

"No problem, Poindexter. Hey, you know what this calls for?! A celebration! You and me, tonight, party on the beach! Whadda ya say?" Lee exclaimed, eyes bright with brotherly pride. Stanford grinned and nodded eagerly.

"Yeah! And after, we can look at the constellations!" He enthused, feeling excited at the prospect. He loved spending his nights on the beach whenever he could, staring at the stars. His brother snorted, but nodded nonetheless.

"Yeah, sure thing, nerd. It's your day, so I'll even listen ta ya ramble on 'bout the stars, if ya want." Lee stated. Stanford grinned again. He knew his brother didn't share his interest in the stars, so the fact he was willing to come with him made it that much better. He was about to reply, to relay his gratitude, but he was interrupted by his mother told them that they were leaving soon, so they better pack up. Stanford looked over at her and nodded quickly in agreement before picking his trophy up off the ground. He'd knew have to come back the next week to get his robot back, since it was going to be displayed in the science museum for a few days. He followed his parents out to the car and sat in the backseat, his little brother sitting in the center between him and Lee.

The drive home was filled with chatter from his twin and little brother, both enthusing about how amazing it was that he had won, about how he was a genius, etcetera, while their mother tried to get them to calm down. He personally thought it was a bit much, but he wasn't about to ask them to stop. He had worked really hard for this, after all, and it was nice to get some recognition for all his work. Especially after all the times his twin had complained that he had stayed up too late. He spent the majority of the car ride listening while staring out the window, watching all the cars pass.

Once home, the five of them got out of the car and climbed the stairs to their little apartment above the family pawn shop, his parents wandering into the parlor while his little brother skipped off to his room. It didn't disappoint him; he knew they all had things they needed to do, that they couldn't spend the day celebrating with him. Lee, however, had stayed beside him, still chattering about his win. Stanford smiled, feeling content as he walked over to his and his brother's room, setting his trophy next to his other one on his dresser, his brother following behind him. He felt pride as he observed the addition to his steadily growing collection. He now had five medals and two trophies. He only hoped that the numbers would continue to grow.

The rest of the afternoon passed by quickly, his excitement dimming only marginally, even as he played a game with his twin, or read one of his numerous science books. He still felt the joy running through his veins, whenever he looked up and saw his trophy. Nothing could make his happiness dim today.

It was about five in the afternoon when Lee kicked him out of their room for a few minutes, so that he could prepare for their outing that night in secret. Mildly amused, he had agreed. His brother had always been secretive about his 'surprises'. And if his brother wanted to do something special for him, he wasn't about to discourage him. After all, he enjoyed his twin's company greatly. He wouldn't even mind if the two of them just spent the night playing one of those weird games his brother enjoyed. He returned to the room when his twin said it was okay, trying not to feel curious about the basket that his brother had on his bed.

Once dinner was ready, he entered the dining room and noticed that his mother had prepared him his favorite sandwich for dinner and his favorite pie for desert, which he was pleasantly surprised about. They weren't usually able to get the good meat for sandwiches, as it was expensive, but clearly his mother had wanted to celebrate his win today. It made him feel special. Like he mattered to his mother. He knew that it should have been a given, that she loved him, but sometimes… sometimes he did wonder.

After dinner had finished, he said goodbye to his parents and followed his brother out of their apartment and down the street to the beach, Lee carrying a basket and a telescope over his shoulder. He could feel his excitement mounting again as they walked on. He loved spending time with his twin, especially out on the beach, just the two of them. It always felt special, to him. Just him and his brother, two adventurers, who were one day going to travel the world on a sailboat together.

Reaching their spot on the beach a few minutes later, Lee took out a blanket from the basket and laid it across the sand, in prime position to view the sky, setting the telescope up in the sand next to it. His brother grinned at him as they both took a seat, taking out the mini radio their father had given him for Chanukah the year before. Yes, it had been something that someone had traded into the pawn shop, but it was still in very good condition. His brother set it to their favorite station and they listened to the song happily.

A second later, his brother also took out a plate of cookies, which looked a bit misshapen and, possibly, just a bit burnt. He looked at his brother in question and his brother smiled somewhat sheepishly.

"I made 'em last night." He confessed, a small blush on his face, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. "I found a recipe in the library the other day, an' thought it would be nice ta try an' make 'em for you, for your win. They… they didn't turn out so good, but I tried."

Stanford could feel himself grinning widely as he stared at the cookies, before throwing his arms around his twin. While they didn't look very appetizing, he appreciated the sentiment more than anything. The fact that his brother had made an effort for him.

"Thanks, Lee. I love 'em." He whispered, squeezing his brother tightly once, before letting go. He could see his brother's skin had turned bright red with embarrassment at the gratitude, though he also had a huge grin on his face.

"Aw, shut up. Ya haven't even tried 'em yet." Lee mumbled, knocking playfully against his shoulder. He grinned in reply and took out a cookie and took a bite. To be honest, they were dreadful- too much flour and not enough sugar- but he made sure to eat the whole thing without grimacing once. He even smiled when he was done, claiming they were great. He was rewarded with a huge grin and a small shove to the side. He shoved his twin back, before laying down to look up at the sky, listening to the song that was playing as well as the sounds of the ocean.

He was in luck, as the sky was relatively clear that night, the stars bright against a midnight blue backdrop. He could feel his brother settling beside him, falling silent as they just gazed. A few moments passed like that, a peaceful serenity filling him, before he began talking about the stars, mentioning different facts he had picked up over the years. He had the feeling that Lee wasn't paying much attention, but that was okay. He understood that his brother wasn't interested in the things he was. But his brother did try, and that was enough for him.

The night was perfect, in his opinion. The cool beach air on his skin, the light breeze caring the scent of salt water. Being with his twin, the two just existing together. Spending time with Lee was always great, and it was even greater now after the excitement of the day. He eventually fell silent, not wanting to disturb the peace with his words. His words were not needed, not here.

"Hey, Ford?" He heard his brother whisper after a little while, breaking the quiet around them. He turned on his side to face his brother, a smile on his mouth. The smile dimmed, however, when he saw a sort of… melancholy look on his brother's face. He felt concerned, as he wondered what was wrong, but as soon as he noticed it, it was gone. Lee then grinned his usual too huge smile, the picture of happiness again. But it was still… off. Stanford didn't know what to make of it.

"Yeah, Lee?" He whispered back, trying to put the look out of his mind. Clearly his brother didn't want him to make a big deal of it, if he was hiding it. If there was one thing he had learned over the years, it was that his twin hated it when people made a big deal over his inner problems.

"Ya sure are smart, huh? Gonna have a lotta opportunities when we grow up." His brother stated, his grin in place, though Stanford could see the cracks forming in it. He frowned in response. His peace was broken as he sat up, looking down at his twin.

"Uh, yeah. I guess." He replied, feeling confused as to what his brother was going on about. He didn't understand why his twin mentioning this. He watched as Lee sat up as well, his knees up with his arms around them. Lee didn't look at him, instead staring out at the water, a strange look in his eyes. Stanford could feel his concern mounting.

"That's cool, huh? But, uh, we'll always be treasure hunters, right? Goin' 'round the world on the Stan O' War?"

His frown deepened as he heard the question, confused, not quite getting what his brother was talking about. What did the Stan O' War have to do with anything? Why was his brother mentioning it? Unless… Unless he was having doubts about it? Stanford felt his heart drop as he stared at his twin.

"Of course, dummy. We're gonna be together, forever. Just you and me, international treasure hunters, like ya said. Why, are you… are you having doubts about it?" He questioned nervously, desperately hoping that his brother would say no. While, yes, he was smart and could probably do anything he wanted when he grew up, there was nothing he'd rather do than travel the world with his brother. It would crush him to learn that Lee was having second thoughts.

Lee, however, shook his head frantically. "No! I'm not havin' second thoughts. I was just… just makin' sure. That's all. Don't worry; we'll always be together, you'll see." Lee smiled brightly at him, a real one this time, which he returned hesitatingly.

"Oh, okay. Good. Was worried you were gonna back out on me." He said, giving a small, slightly fake laugh. He could feel his insides unclenching, now knowing that his brother wasn't going to leave him behind for something else.

"Nah. Never, Poindexter. Once the Stan O' War is complete, we'll be outta this town. Promise. Now, why don't ya tell me 'bout the stars some more? I know ya wanna."

He could tell that his brother wanted to change the subject, and so he allowed it, laying back down and talking about all the different stars in the sky. He could feel the peace returning as he did, the panic receding. He didn't notice the sad look returning to his brother's face. Nor did he ever understand quite what his brother had been asking him. But then again, why would he?

Life, to him, was perfect.


	2. Chapter 2

New chapter is up. Yay!

So, this chapter is basically my way of showing that the discord between Stan and Ford did not just magically appear the day that Stanley got thrown out. To me, that makes no sense. Why would Ford be so angry if it was a one time thing, if they had previously been the absolute best of friends? Why would he turn his back on his brother and never look back? So yeah. This scene also mimics a scene from The Life of Pines, however it is different, which is why the dialogue and actions are not the same. Just so no one gets confused.

And that's about it. Remember to review!

* * *

 _~~~No one knows what it's like~~~  
~~~To feel these feelings, like I do~~~  
~~~And I blame you~~~  
~~~No one bites back as hard on their anger~~~  
~~~None of my pain and woe, can show through~~~_

 _-Behind Blue Eyes, The Who._

* * *

Useless. Completely useless. How on earth was he supposed to work when his stupid pen decided to run out of ink on him?

Sixteen years old and frustrated, Stanford scowled as he threw his pen to the side in anger, running his hand through his bushy hair.

It was late. Very late. Had to be nearing one, if his inner clock was working right. He glanced over at the door, frowning at the fact it was still closed. He then looked down at the bunk underneath him, frowning deeper at the fact it was still empty, the anxiety inside of him growing a bit. He sighed as he climbed out of bed, reaching into his dresser and pulling out another pen. Looked like he would have time to figure out the problem, after all.

Focussing on the math equation, he tried his hardest to ignore the anxiety and concern he felt, pouring everything into his work. It wasn't that late. Besides, Lee could take care of himself. He knew that.

But as the minutes passed, he couldn't help but feel the chill of fear inside of him, as he always did when his brother stayed out too late. He had seen Lee with a busted lip or a black eye too many times to count, and it never got any easier. Nor did it stop the fear that he would one day come home with a worse injury, or perhaps just not come home at all. They had both given up boxing years ago, so why couldn't his brother stop getting into fights?

It was sad that he had to constantly do this, he thought absently as he chewed on the back of his pen. He honestly would prefer to be asleep right now, getting enough rest for school the next day. He had an award ceremony to go to, for his achievements in science. Yet he couldn't fall asleep until he knew his brother was alright. That he wasn't bleeding out, needing him to go and fix him up. Part of him was angry at Lee, that he would do this to him. Especially when he knew that he had an important event in the morning.

He managed to wait thirty minutes before looking up again, staring at the door, shifting restlessly on the bed as it stayed shut. After a moment he groaned and went angrily back to his problem. His brother had better be in pain, or else he would cause him pain, he thought bitterly as he scratched out yet another wrong answer, trying to make the fear lessen to no avail.

Another hour had passed in anxious silence and furtive glances at clock before he heard the door creak open, his brother's face showing up a moment later. He tried not to sigh too loudly at the large bruise he could see, feeling only mild relief that that seemed to be the only injury. He set the notebook he had been working on aside as he got out of the bed, keeping all his anger and frustration inside as he grabbed his brother's face and examined the large and dark bruise residing there. He ignored the wince Lee gave, not caring that he was being a bit too harsh, instead moving over to the first aid kit he kept at the base of their bunk-bed. He then took out the antiseptic and bruise cream, absently noticing that he'd need to get some more soon, if his twin kept this up.

"You were out late." He said in a clipped tone as poured some antiseptic on a cotton ball, dabbing at the bruise a bit harsher than he had to. He could see his brother wince again, actually pulling away from him this time, and immediately felt bad, forcing himself to rein his anger in better. He didn't want to hurt his brother, after all.

"Yeah, well… ya know what it's like. Best music gets played late. Gotta stay or else ya miss it." His brother mumbled, shifting uncomfortably on his heels. Stanford clicked his tongue angrily and grit his teeth at the answer. Of course he'd been out at the club. He and that girlfriend of his loved staying out late. He couldn't blame Carla that much, though; his brother would have gone out with or without her.

He fell silent as he continued cleaning the bruise, knowing that if he tried to voice his upset now he'd just end up hurting Lee by accident. And while he might be pissed, he'd never be /that/ pissed. He loved his brother with all his heart. He just wished the man would be more responsible for once.

Once his brother's face had been seen to, Stanford backed up and began pacing, quick steps back and forth. He had to think, had to calm himself down. He couldn't yell; yelling would get them nowhere, plus it would just wake their family.

It wasn't like Lee did this every day or anything. But he did it frequently enough that he honestly didn't know what else he could say to his twin when nothing else had worked. It was clear that Lee acting out, he knew that. But their parents didn't even care anymore, so who was Lee acting out against? What was he trying to achieve by staying out so late? Stanford didn't know, so how could he make his brother change?

The silence stretched out for another minute, his brother shifting uncomfortably while he paced, before he had gathered his thoughts enough to speak.

"It's nearly two in the morning. You've been gone for three hours, Stan. And you have a black eye. What the hell is the matter with you? Why do you keep doing this?" He asked, rhetorically of course. His brother never had a good response to that question, simply saying he that he 'didn't know.' He didn't even bother waiting for an answer this time before continuing, ranting about how irresponsible and stupid his brother was, his remaining fear and panic coming out as anger in his words. He could feel his anger mounting when he noticed the glassy look in his brother's eyes, indicating that he was no longer paying attention. He wanted to scream at his twin, wanted to make the man listen, but he held it back. He had to; he didn't want to hurt his twin. He didn't.

Once he had run out of words to say, the two just stood in steely silence, his brother's jaw clenched as he stared blankly at the wall. Oh. So he _had_ been listening. Well, good. He needed to hear how stupid he was being. He tried not to feel bad as he noticed the upset way his brother was holding his jaw. A moment passed before his brother broke the stillness in the room, walking tersely over to his bed. He watched as his brother sat down heavily and let out a loud groan.

"Look, Ford… just stop, okay? I get you're concerned, but ya don't hafta be. I can take care of myself; I don't need ya ta baby me. You're not my parent, or my girlfriend, so stop tryin' ta tell me what ta do." His brother said in a tired voice, his bright brown eyes piercing him. Stanford could feel his anger draining slowly, the guilt winning out as he noticed the exhausted slump of his twin's shoulders.

"Maybe if you'd stop staying out so late, I wouldn't have to." He replied softly, staring back.

A pause.

"Ya just don't get it, Ford."

"Maybe I would if you explained."

His brother gave him a long stare, the tense silence back. A moment passed before he simply shrugged tersely and turned away, crossing his arms and moving to lie down, saying nothing else. Stanford waited a minute but he could tell that his twin was done talking for the night, and so he let out yet another sigh before climbing the ladder to his bunk. He felt bad for antagonizing his brother, but what was he supposed to do? Give up like their parents had? Well, he refused. He loved his brother too much to just watch as he did this to himself. He stared at the ceiling, simply listening to his brother shifting around his bed, feeling his worry sooth over at the sound.

A while passed before he finally closed his eyes and did his best to fall asleep, but it was slow going. He just couldn't get his brother's image out of his head, covered in blood and lying dead in a ditch somewhere. It was his worst nightmare, yet he constantly feared that it would one day become reality, if he didn't make his brother change. Eventually, though, he fell into a fitful slumber, one full of nightmares.

The morning came too quickly for his liking, the sun relentless against his eyes. He could hear his brother pattering around below, singing lightly under his breath. Seemed he was in a better mood, he thought bitterly as he sat up. His brother noticed that he was awake and gave him a wide grin.

"Hey, Sixer! Ya better get ready soon; your stupid award thing's this afternoon an' I know ya wanna get dressed up for the occasion." Lee piped up, gesturing to the button up shirt and dress pants that he had set out the day before. He noticed that his twin was dressed up in a short sleeved polo shirt with a pair of clean cargo pants; not the best outfit, but he guessed it would do. Stanford didn't bother to reply, simply climbing out of his bed and taking the clothes so he could dress quickly.

The two of them entered the kitchen a minute later, taking out a box of cereal and eating in silence, their shared brother having left for school with their mother earlier to return a library book according to a note that was left on the fridge. His twin began chattering about a boxing match he had watched on the TV the other day, detailing who had won and why they sucked. Stanford listened absently, not particularly caring but humoring his brother all the same.

It was always like this, he thought as he got into his brother's car, Lee driving them both to school. They would fight and argue, and then the next day pretend it had never happened. It really couldn't be healthy, but what else was he supposed to do? _Force_ his brother to talk? How could he do that, when he honestly didn't want to either? What they had was good; they were best friends, they loved each other dearly, and one day they were going to sail around the world together. Why complicate things by dragging up old fights?

And as he stood up in front of the crowd of people, grinning while he accepted his award, he looked out and found his brother cheering louder than anyone else in the auditorium. He smiled brightly and knew that things would be okay. Yeah, they fought and had different hobbies, but what siblings didn't?

He and Lee were brothers. And that was all that mattered.

Right?


	3. Chapter 3

New chapter. ^-^

Just a warning, though: This is not a happy chapter. I bet a lot of you can guess what is gonna happen in the second half, but I just wanted to make sure y'all knew that this chapter does not end happily. So... You've been warned.

Oh! And I do not own the dialogue in this chapter. It all comes from A Tale of Two Stans.

That's all. Enjoy! Remember to review/comment! And thanks to everyone who has already left a comment/review, as well as left a kudos/favorite! Y'all are amazing. ^-^

* * *

 _~~~Love is like a dyin' ember~~~  
~~~Only memories remain~~~  
~~~Through the ages I'll remember~~~  
~~~Blue eyes cryin' in the rain~~~_

 _-Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain, Willie Nelson_

* * *

He could feel his mind go blank as he listened to the principal. He felt like he was floating, dreaming, as the man told him that representatives from West Coast Tech, the best college in America, were coming to see his perpetual motion machine. That if he impressed them, he would be able to go there.

Eighteen years old and speechless, Stanford shook the principal's hand and left the room, his mind in a daze. He didn't notice his twin's dejected look, nor did he see him stalk away. All he could see was the pamphlet in his hands.

This was it. His big break. His chance to do something _good_ in life. For years now, whenever he had thought of his future, he had gotten a sort of tight clench in his gut. Don't get him wrong, he loved his brother with all of his heart. But spending the rest of his life chasing down the dreams of a twelve year old? That wasn't what he wanted in life. He had just never realized it before, having constantly told himself that it was. But now, now that he had the option to do something good for himself, to do better in life? His previous hesitance to hunt for treasure on a sailboat was put into harsh relief. That wasn't what he wanted. Not anymore.

He just hoped that Lee would understand… but he was sure that his brother would. That he would be happy for him. After all, Lee was his biggest supporter. Every time he won an award or a medal, Lee was there, cheering on the top of his lungs, declaring to the world that 'this is my brother!' Yes, there were times that Stanford had noticed a sad look in his brother's eyes as soon as he thought no one was looking, but he had always just assumed that it was because his twin felt like he was stealing all the spotlight, and he could understand that. It was why he always tried his hardest to include his twin, even if the man had no idea what he was talking about at all. He had always wanted his brother to feel needed.

So he wasn't too worried about Lee. He would understand, in time at least. And surely, he, too, didn't want to spend his life chasing a daydream? Yeah, it was a nice dream as a kid, but as an adult it wasn't something that could ever be a reality. Treasure hunters? Yeah, right. His brother would understand.

And, maybe now Lee could even get into his own college… yeah, his grades weren't the best, but Stanford knew that his brother was smart. He had seen the man calculate difficult math problems easily in his head, or else rattle off some history fact with little to no thought. His brother was a sponge for knowledge, he just didn't seem to realize it. Maybe if he got into West Coast Tech, he could help his brother unlock his potential… he smiled at the thought, feeling happiness flood through him. Then his brother would be able to do something great with his life as well, not just 'scrape the barnacles off' of a dock, like the principal had said. His brother was meant for greater things than that, even if no one else realized it. Even if his brother, himself, didn't realize it. Things would work out perfectly, he was sure of it. He would get into West Coast Tech, he'd help his brother get into his own college, and everything was going to go great. Life had finally decided to give him a break. He knew it.

He turned a corner and went back to class, unable to keep the skip out of his step as he thought of his new opportunity. And, if he didn't see his twin for the rest of the day, well, it wasn't unlike Lee to skip class sometimes. He'd have to help his twin get over that habit, if they wanted to get Lee into a good college.

When he arrived home that evening, he noticed his brother sitting outside on the swing the two of them used to play on as children. He could feel a smile on his face as he looked at his brother, though he thought that it felt just a bit bittersweet. He wasn't quite sure why, not when everything was looking up.

Deciding to alter his path, he went over to Lee, sitting on the swing beside him. It wouldn't hurt to speak with his brother in private, so that the two of them could talk about this, about the fact he was going to hopefully go to a college on the opposite side of the country. There was silence for a while as the two just sat, neither really knowing where to start. Stanford noticed absently that he was still holding the pamphlet, having not dared to put it away on the offside chance that it would simply disappear, like a dream. Several minutes passed before his brother spoke.

"Heh. Joke's on them if they think you wanna go to some stuffy college on the other side of the country. Once we get the Stan O' War complete, it's gonna be beaches, babes, and international treasure hunting for us."

So maybe his brother wouldn't understand at first. He hadn't really thought that he would. But once he explained, he was sure Lee would get it. That Lee would accept it. That Lee would be happy for him. So, slowly as he gathered his thoughts, Stanford tried to explain.

"Look, Stan, I can't pass up a chance like this. This school has cutting edge programs and multi-dimensional paradigm theory!"

"Beep boop. I am a nerd robot. That's you. That's what you sound like."

Heh, classic Lee… but he could tell that his brother was distressed. And, since he hated seeing his brother in pain or upset, he decided to give him some hope. Even if he, himself, was hoping against it. Even if it left a bad taste in his mouth, for reasons he didn't really want to think about.

"Heheh. Ah, well, if the College Board isn't impressed with my experiment tomorrow, then okay, I'll do the treasure-hunting thing."

"And if they are?"

Stanford smiled and punched him gently in the arm.

"Well then, I guess you better come visit me on the other side of the country. Haha."

With that, he got up and walked away. There, now his brother had his hope. And, more importantly, he now understood what this meant to him. He was sure his twin would come around to his way of thinking, if not now, then someday. Lee wasn't unreasonable, after all.

As he went to bed that night, his stomach a twist of nerves, he couldn't help the smile that formed on his face. Life was looking up. Years of being teased and bullied for his birth defect and brains were finally going to come to fruition. He'd go to this fancy college, learn all he could about medicine, or science, or anything really, and he'd show everyone just how great he could be.

He was still smiling as he fell asleep.

* * *

He felt like his heart had been ripped right out of his chest. He sat on the floor of his room and stared, blankly, at the bottom bunk that was still unmade, awaiting an occupant that would never return.

Eighteen years old and beaten, Stanford didn't know what to think. What could he think? His brother- _his best friend_ \- had sabotaged his project. Stanley had known how much this meant to him. He had to. So why had he done it?! That was the question that kept circling his head.

But even as he thought about it, he couldn't help but stare at the bunk and think that, perhaps, his father had been too cruel. That he should have said something. That he should have stopped his father from kicking his brother out forever.

Yet he hadn't. And now he felt a mix of anger, hatred, hurt, guilt, and fear in his heart. And his brother was God knew where.

To think, he had started the day happy. He had been so excited and nervous, unable to contain his elation. He was so sure that his project would impress the judges that he didn't even bother to look at it. He hadn't really had the time to anyway, since they had arrived so early. But as he soon learned, that was a mistake. One of many that he had made that day.

When he had first seen that his machine had stopped working, he hadn't known what had gone wrong. It had worked the day before! It should have kept going forever; after all, it was a perpetual motion machine. He had done the right calculations, had spent months working on it so that it would work properly. Seeing the peanut toffee bag on the ground had caused his heart to freeze, before it filled with fury, understanding dawning on him.

He had thought his brother cared about him. That he wanted what was best for him. That he wouldn't mind the fact he was leaving. But, instead, Stanley had sabotaged his project and ruined his one chance of going to his dream college. He had felt such a bitter anger fill him, along with hurt and pain. Betrayal tasted so bitter in his mouth.

He hadn't even been able to think as he had approached his brother, his mind cold with anger and a bit of hatred. There was no room for brotherly love when said brother _betrayed_ you. When they destroyed something you spent months working on, ruining your chance at going to the best college in the country. He hadn't bothered to modulate his volume, yelling loudly at his twin.

Watching their father yell at Stanley, though… he hadn't known what to think. Part of him agreed. His brother had been riding on his coattails for years, and while he always said he didn't mind, he truly did. He just didn't understand why his twin couldn't do his own work. He had the brains, why didn't he just apply them? So he felt that Stanley deserved the harsh words.

But… but watching his father throw Stanley out… watching as his brother turned to him, his heart exposed and breaking… it killed him to turn away. It felt like he had driven a knife right into his own heart, closing those blinds. He had even been able to sort of make out his brother's voice, screaming how he didn't need them, that he would make millions and that they would rue the day they turned him away. Part of him hoped that was true. That Stanley would be able to make something of himself.

The rest of him, though… the rest of him was still furious. He could feel bitter hatred rising in his gut as he thought of his twin, and the part of him that still loved Stanley hated it. He didn't want to hate his brother. He loved his brother. Didn't he? _Didn't he?!_

God, everything was so messed up he thought as he put his head in his hands. How had things gone so wrong? How had this happened? Why couldn't Stanley have just been _happy_ for him?! Why did he have to destroy his machine?! Why did he have to get himself thrown out, causing this gaping hole to form inside of him?! Why?!

Stanford could feel tears welling up in his eyes and tried his hardest to stop them, but found that he couldn't. They began to flow freely as broken sobs echoed around the empty room.

He didn't know what would happen now. He had always been part of a pair, half of a matched set. Who was he without Stanley? Would he even be able to succeed without his brother there, cheering him on? Never, not even in his wildest dreams, had he imagined living without Lee. Now, though... Now he would have to learn. He didn't want to, though. That was the problem.

Well, at least now he would be able to live his own life… living as a set for so long had been stifling at times. His brother was always so… so _much_. So extravagant, so grandiose. He was everything that Stanford was not. Flamboyant where he was restrained, bold when he was hesitant. It had been exhausting trying to keep up with him, sometimes. Now, at least, he would be able to live freely. Just at the cost of his twin. His other half.

He could feel pain radiate through him as he thought again of what he had lost. He had to take several deep, shaking breaths to alleviate it.

It really wasn't fair. Not only had he lost his chance to go to West Cost Tech, he had also lost his brother. And while, yes, he could always look for his twin, he still didn't know if he wanted to. And that was what hurt the most. That while he knew he loved his brother still (he did, didn't he? Of course he did, he had to) he wasn't sure if he ever wanted to see the man again.

It took a while for the tears to finally cease and it took even longer for the pain in his chest to fully stop. For a while he just stared, blankly and unseeing at his twin's former bed. He felt numb; numb and cold. Like all the life had been sucked out of him. Like life as he knew it had ended.

But life still went on. And he would eventually have to get up and face it, torn away from his twin.

But for now he would sit. And for now, he would mourn.

For everything was different now. And he didn't know what that would mean for him.


	4. Chapter 4

What's that? Did someone say NEW CHAPTER? No? Ah well, you got one anyway.

Just a warning, though: This is not my favorite chapter. I don't know... I had some trouble writing it. It encompasses all of Ford's life while away from Stan and I had a bit of trouble figuring out how to write it. Especially since the timeline makes no sense in the show (It has been said that the Author spent 6 years in Gravity Falls. But he was only away from Stan for 10 years. That means that Ford went from undergrad to PhD in 4 years, which is a bit difficult to wrap my head around, since Ford was only 3 years ahead of schedule. But I'm digressing.) Now I'm not saying that it's bad, per se; just not the best I've written. That being said, at least we get to see Fiddleford and Bill! So, that's cool.

Anyway, I'm currently pumped up to see the new episode (I live on the West Coast, we don't get it for another hour and a half. Plus, I then have to wait for my dad to get home so he can watch it with us.) I had considered waiting to post until after the episode aired for me, but then decided against it. So yeah.

Thanks to everyone who commented, reviewed, favorited, or gave kudos! Y'all are amazing! I'm glad people like how I'm writing Ford; while writing I was so concerned I was getting him completely wrong. It's nice to know I'm not failing too badly.

Now, enjoy!

* * *

 _~~~Paranoia, paranoia~~~  
_ _~~~Everybody's coming to get me~~~  
_ _~~~Just say you never met me ~~~  
_ _-Flagpole Sitta, Harvey Danger_

* * *

College certainly was different, Stanford thought absently as he walked around the campus towards his dorm, books in hand. He could see so many different people chattering around, people who waved hello to him (which wasn't even that unusual anymore). However, it was not quite as different as he had once hoped.

Twenty years old and jaded, he reached his dorm and entered it, shrugging his book bag off his shoulder and wincing at the ache he could keenly feel. He then walked over to his small desk and took out the books he would need to finish his essay for English, as well as the books he'd need to finish his Physics paper (taking double the usual amount of classes, he was very used to working on two things at one). Finally, he sat down and started to work. He could feel his mind still wandering as he did so, though.

Now, it wasn't like college was boring or anything. In fact, he loved college. It was a place where he could be himself, without fear of getting teased by bullies. People actually liked him here, which was another plus. He just wished that it was more of a challenge. As it was, even taking as many advanced classes as he could, even if he had already technically graduated college and was now working on his masters and PhD, it was still easy to him. Sure he had a lot of work due sometimes, but it was never all that challenging. Now, if he had gone to West Coast Tech, then maybe… but those thoughts were counterproductive. He wasn't going to West Coast Tech, was he? He tried not to be too bitter about it.

He sighed as he wrote down another sentence for his English paper, switching seamlessly over to Physics a second later.

The last couple of years sure had been rough. Those first few months, adjusting to life without his brother... At one point it had seemed nearly impossible. Everyday his first instinct upon waking up was telling Stanley all about his weird dreams. Every night, his first instinct was wishing his brother a good sleep. It had been devastating at first, for his twin to not be there. To remember that he was gone.

But eventually... Eventually those instincts faded. The gaping hole in his chest began to close, inch by inch. Don't get him wrong, it was still there; there were still times that he ached to see his twin, but it wasn't as fierce as it had once been. He was healing. And that was what scared him the most. He didn't know what he'd do once he was completely healed. Would he forget about his twin? He didn't want to, but with all the anger inside him, maybe it would be for the best.

That was one thing that still surprised him, though; realizing just how angry he was at Stanley. The more time that passed, the more he realized how frustrated he had been over the years. Watching his twin slack off on homework, watching him come back at all hours of the night with bruises or bloody knuckles… it had caused a deep resentment to form within him, resentment that he had always ignored in favor of being a good sibling.

And, nowadays, it was almost like he was at war with himself where his brother was concerned. A part of him loved his twin and a part of him hated his twin. Those sides were constantly at battle, tearing him in two with their intensity. It was why he never bothered looking for his brother, or even thought of him very much; while the part that loved Stanley yearned to find him, the part that hated him refused. It was exhausting. He stopped writing for a second and simply stared out into space, wondering briefly where his twin was. If he was doing alright. If he was still alive.

He was jolted out of his thoughts a second later, though, when he heard a bird tapping at his window. He then looked down at his English essay and scowled, scratching out a sentence that made no sense. His thoughts were distracting him, he had to focus. Stupid Stanley; he wasn't even here and yet he was still interrupting his work. Typical.

He did his best to put his brother out of his mind and set to work. It was getting easier and easier each day to do so, which he found somewhat disconcerting. He had almost finished both papers when the door to his dorm opened up. His roommate was back from his classes, it seemed. He looked up and smiled.

"Hey, Fiddleford." He said easily as the man set his book bag down on the floor, laying on his bed with an exhausted groan. Stanford just chuckled at the sight, well used to that position over the years. While the work had never been particularly hard, there had always been a lot of it, which could get tiresome at times.

"Heya Ford. What are ya workin' on?" His roommate asked, lifting his head slightly to look at him. Stanford lifted his books.

"English and Physics. Got papers due on Friday, thought I'd get a head start." He explained, setting the books down and getting back to work. He just had a few sentences left, anyway.

Fiddleford nodded and let his head hit his pillow with a soft thud. Stanford smiled again. He enjoyed having a roommate, even though he had had reservations at first, afraid he would get a monster of a person to deal with. But he hadn't. Instead, he had gotten Fiddleford, a brilliant young mechanical engineer major who loved science, allowing the two of them to spend hours talking about the complexities of science. It was nice. It also made the loneliness less intense, on those nights where he had yearned for his brother's companionship.

"I swear, this school is tryin' ta kill me. I have three papers due by Wednesday. All assigned today. Not to mention all the other work I still have to do." Fiddleford complained from his position on the bed. Stanford hissed in sympathy; essay writing was never Fiddleford's strong suit, and three essays in two days was never a fun thing to have to do.

"That sucks, man. If you need any help, I'm more than willing. Just ask, okay?" He offered, used to helping someone out with essays and homework. Fiddleford just nodded gratefully and sat up with a groan.

"Well, guess I'd better get started. These papers ain't gonna write themselves…"

He watched as his roommate rummaged in his book bag, walking over to his own desk to start his work. The man definitely wasn't Stanley, but he was good company. So while he'd never fully fill the void inside him, Stanford was glad they were friends.

He then turned his focus back on his work, adding the finishing touches and editing that he still needed done. The papers weren't his best, but they would do.

As he put his papers away, he absently thought that while he had adjusted to life without his twin pretty well, it was still weird to think that it had been over two years since he had seen the man he had used to see every single day. That he didn't even know where his brother was (or if he was even still alive.) But he had survived the worst of it, and he would continue to survive.

And if he sometimes couldn't help but dream of his brother's devastated face as he closed those blinds, well, he had more important things to think about than silly little dreams.

* * *

Stanford stared at the journal in his hands, a frown on his lips as he crossed out a line that was inaccurate.

Twenty six years old and curiosity insatiable, he rewrote the sentence and darkened the shading on the drawing that accompanied the words. When he was done he smiled and closed the book, then stood back and nodded at his discovery.

He had been in the strange town of Gravity Falls for four years now, and yet he had still not figured out all of its secrets. Everyday more and more mysteries revealed themselves and he constantly had more and more questions, going out for hours at a time to try and find the answers out. Good thing he had his muse to help him figure everything out...

He had been a fool to think that he could figure everything out on his own. He had tried for the first three years, and at first he had done pretty well. But as time passed, he had gotten stuck. He had found many different varieties of creatures, but had no idea where they all came from. No amount of research helped, as he always came to the same roadblock. It had been beyond frustrating.

When he had found that ancient stone earlier that year, depicting a being who knew the secrets of the universe, well, how could he resist? Who cared about warnings when you could unlock the secrets that constantly eluded? When that being had appeared before him in his dreams, of course he was going to make a deal. His body was a small price to pay for unlimited knowledge.

And, thus far, the muse had been beyond helpful. It explained so many things, such as the reason there were so many supernatural beings in Gravity Falls. Apparently, there were multiple dimensions and this town was a meeting point between them all. All the supernatural creatures stemmed from that weak spot. He had felt amazed to learn that, to learn about the existence of multiple dimensions. The muse had then told him that they could create a portal that would connect this world with the others. To think, he'd be the first human to travel the multiverse! He had started building it as soon as he learned about it, the muse helping him by explaining some complicated equations, or else taking over his body to write things down.

A plus to building the portal was that he was able to connect with Fiddleford again. He had feared that with college over with, he'd never see his old friend again, as they had different interests in life. It had saddened him greatly, since Fiddleford had been the first friend he had ever made on his own. But when he had learned he would need to build a giant portal, his first thought had been Fiddleford. After all, the man did have a PhD in mechanical engineering; who would be better to help build a portal machine? Now they were working together, just like old times. His friend had even found himself a girlfriend in this small town, which made Stanford feel better about uprooting the man from his home in Palo Alto.

Working with Bill and Fiddleford, the portal had made great progress in only a handful of months. They had the rough shape of it down and they had a lot of difficult equations written for it. He wasn't that much of a mechanical engineer, but Fiddleford was, which made up for the knowledge he lacked. Working together, he thought that they would be done with the portal within a year or two.

The only problem in this whole endeavor was that whenever Bill took over his body, he would sometimes see things. Horrible things. Bill said that it was just a side effect of having someone take over his body, but it still disturbed him greatly. It almost made him wish he had never dealt with the muse. However, the majority of him agreed that learning the secrets to the universe was more important than some mild discomfort. He could deal with being disturbed as long as he had knowledge. The nightmares would go away one day, surely.

But for now, he would continue to work on his portal and would strive to become the greatest scientist to ever live, like Bill told him that he would. And on the side, he'd research the secrets and mysteries of Gravity Falls. It was perfect, to him.

Currently, he was researching this curious creature that lived underground, a type of giant mole he believed. He had noticed the things digging up his backyard many times over the past few days and had decided to go investigate, leaving Fiddleford to continue working on the portal. He had finally come across one of their colonies and was writing all he could observe, drawing them as accurately as he could. They appeared to be harmless; simple burrowers who seemed to enjoy shiny things, if their horde of metal was any indication. He stayed out in the little clearing for a while, watching as the giant mole-like creatures popped in and out of the ground. It was only as the sun started to set that he left, feeling content at the day's work.

Back at home, he went immediately to the laboratory, greeting Fiddleford warmly and telling the man he could go home for the night. Once his friend had left, he examined the portal himself and went over the calculations that Fiddleford had written down while he was gone. He then went to work, applying what fit and disregarding what didn't.

He had probably been working for thirty minutes when the world lost its color. He felt a smile form as he heard that familiar high pitched laugh.

"Hey there, Sixer." The muse said cheerfully, floating over so that Stanford could see it. He grinned (ignoring the pang that that name caused inside him) and lifted a hand in greeting.

"Hello, Bill. Have you come to check on our progress?" He asked, gathering up his and Fiddleford's notes. The being laughed again.

"Wow, you really are a smart one! Of course I am!" Bill exclaimed as it floated closer to him, looking over his shoulder at the work. Stanford simply shifted through the papers so that it could read them better.

Once it was done with reading, the muse got a considering look on its face.

"Well, it's not terrible. But you could certainly do better! The equations on the third page were completely wrong and the last page would be physically impossible to do- in this dimension at least!" It exclaimed as it shook its 'head' (which looked more like the being was rocking back and forth than anything).

Stanford, feeling a pang of self-disappointment, first took a look at the equations that Bill had indicated and realized that the muse was right- either he or Fiddleford had switched a number around, ruining the whole row of equations in the process. It was an easy fix, at least. As for the last page, the being was also correct in saying it was impossible; the amount of power needed to do what the page said would have essentially blown the planet up. He grimaced as he scraped the paper entirely, unable to see how he could redo it. He couldn't even blame Fiddleford for it, since he knew it was his work.

He glanced up at the floating triangle and watched as it drifted over to the portal itself. The thing had really come along, if he did say so himself. They had the base mostly constructed; they just needed to figure out how to connect it to the other dimensions.

"Anyway! Let's get to work, Sixer! Prepare your body!" The muse laughed, circling his head. Stanford winced at its choice of words, but did as it said and got off his chair and onto the floor, allowing Bill to enter him freely.

Being possessed by Bill was always an experience, he thought as the being took him over, forcing his consciousness to a corner of his mind. He could still think, could still see, but it was distorted and distant. It was also weird to see his body doing things, yet not being in control. However, it was still preferable to the times that Bill took over his body completely, forcing him out of his body and into that lonely mindscape place. That was always terrifying.

Today he watched as Bill moved his arms, writing down equations and fixing up the ones he and Fiddleford had messed up. It went on for over an hour, Bill sometimes getting his input on certain topics, but otherwise leaving his consciousness alone. Seeing the complicated equations that the being was writing down, Stanford could see why it had wanted to take over his body today. It was simply easier than relaying the whole thing in his ear.

When Bill was finally done, it gave one short warning before leaving his body. He fell to the ground as soon as he was back in control, shaking uncontrollably from the head rush. He wondered if that sensation would ever get any easier…

"Well, that was fun! See you next time, Sixer!" The muse exclaimed before popping out of existence. It didn't surprise him that much anymore; Bill sometimes stayed and chatted, but usually it just left as abruptly as it showed up.

He could feel exhaustion settle in as he got up from the ground, but he forced himself to go over the work that Bill had done, organizing it neatly and setting it somewhere safe. When he finally went up to his room, it was nearing three in the morning. He was bone tired as he fell face first onto his sofa slash bed.

It was tiring work, being the vessel for an all-powerful being. But it would all be worth it in the end.

He knew it.

* * *

He was an idiot. He was a stupid fool. He had given his complete trust to a fraud. And now the world might collapse because of his mistake.

Twenty eight years old and betrayed, Stanford sat in his study and furiously flipped through his old notes for the thousandth time, doing his best to try and figure out how to fix his mistake without destroying his life's work.

To think, he had once thought that he would be the greatest scientist the world had ever seen. What a pathetic, needy _fool_ he had been. He should have known better. Now he was stuck with a doomsday device and the bitter sting of betrayal in his chest.

Not to mention the guilt. Poor Fiddleford… what he had done to him was the worst. It had been weeks since he had last seen his former partner, but he had been seeing this weird symbol popping up everywhere; an eye that was crossed out with red blood. He had a feeling that his friend was the one behind it, if the last words he spoke to him were any indication. It was concerning him greatly, to see how far the man was going to forget… just what had he seen that was so terrible?

When Fiddleford had been accidentally sucked into the portal, Stanford had at first been excited to learn what his partner had seen. He thought it would be something amazing. But when Fiddleford had told him that he was supposed to fear the beast with just one eye, that the portal was dangerous…

He hadn't wanted to believe that the portal was evil at first. He had spent so long working on it; it was the accumulation of all of his work. And he had wanted to trust Bill. But as more time passed, he grew more paranoid. He just couldn't get the whispered voices to leave him alone. He began to doubt his conviction. And then, when he confronted the creature… and it finally told him the truth... He had realized that he had been used. For years, he had been used.

It had stung so badly to learn the truth. Everything he had believed in was a lie. He had put his trust in a monster. And now he was paying the price. He hadn't gotten a good night sleep in weeks and he was constantly on edge.

He had spent a lot of the time since that day researching Bill and coming up with a frustratingly small amount of information. He only knew that it was a demon; a dream demon to be exact. Not a muse like it had claimed. He had found a way to follow it into minds, but that didn't exactly help him much now.

As he shuffled through his notes, his thoughts still bitterly churning, he heard a noise by the window and nearly fell out of his chair, scrambling to get up and defend himself against Bill. But when he turned, his crossbow out, all he saw was a squirrel sitting outside the window, storing its nuts for the upcoming winter. He lowered his weapon and sat back down shakily, eyes darting around the room before settling again on the window. He would need to board that up as soon as he could. He couldn't have anything unwelcome entering his house. He already had implanted that steel plate into his own skull to keep Bill out, but Bill could use anything to get to him. So he had to be prepared.

He shuffled his notes once more before standing and exiting the room. He needed to come up with something to fix all of this and he needed to come up with something fast. He couldn't keep living this way. He couldn't live in constant fear of attack.

There was always one thing he could do, of course... But it wasn't something he wanted to think of. Even the thought of hiding his work, or destroying it, wounded him. But, if it would fix things... If it made everything better, if it allowed him to sleep in peace... Maybe it would be worth it. To do it, though, he'd need someone he trusted to help. But who?

For now, he would try and sleep. He would figure this all out in the morning. Of course, Bill could still visit his mind, as he regretfully learned a few days ago, but he didn't think the demon could possess him anymore. The steel plate would keep it out. He hoped. It still didn't make sleeping any fun, though. Seeing the demon just highlighted his mistakes.

Life was messed up, but he would fix it. He would make everything right again.

He had to.


	5. Chapter 5

Putting this one out just a bit early, since I'm bored and have nothing better to do with my time.

Quick disclaimer, I own none of the dialogue in this chapter. In fact, from here on out, most of the dialogue either comes from the show, or from The Life of Pines. I kind of feel bad about doing it that way, but I needed to show how Ford felt during all of the later scenes in TLoP, so I kind of have to reuse the dialogue from there. Doesn't mean that I spent any less time working on the chapters, it just means that those of you who've read TLoP will get the distinct feeling of Déjà Vu.

Also, next chapter goes into the portal and all that. And it gets weird. The end of this chapter touches on it a little, but the chapter itself is really bizarre and different to any other chapter. You'll see what I mean tomorrow. I kind of like it, but at the same time kinda don't.

And I think that's it. Remember to review/comment!

* * *

 _~~~So glad we've almost made it~~~  
_ _~~~So sad they had to fade it~~~  
_ _~~~Everybody wants to rule the world~~~_

 _-Everybody Wants to Rule the World, Tears for Fears_

* * *

It had taken him a couple of weeks, but he had finally found the right address. Twenty eight years old and nervous, Stanford looked at the post card and wondered what he would write. What could he write? Ten years was a long time, after all. And the last time they had seen each other had not gone very well.

If he was being honest, it had been a couple years since he had last really thought of his brother. Yes, he still had the occasional nightmare, or he would see something that caused that familiar twinge in his gut, but other than that he had steered clear of anything that had to do with Stanley Pines. His parents never mentioned him and his little brother only mentioned him briefly during Passover or Yom Kippur. It was easier to forget him than to live with the constant pain his brother's absence caused.

He had been worried for a brief amount of time, while he had been searching for his brother's address and kept coming up empty, that the man was dead. He had come across so many different names, so many dead ends... He had begun to wonder what he would find at the end of his search. If he'd even find anything. But he had finally come to the end of the long list of fake id's and name changes and found that his brother was staying in a motel in Arizona. He had breathed a bit easier after learning that. But that was only step one.

When he had realized he'd need to find someone whom he trusted to take his last journal and protect it, his first thought had been his twin. There was a time Stanley was the only person in the world he trusted, and even though he had betrayed him once, it still remained true. He was sure that, should Stanley become the caretaker of the journal, nothing would happen to it. He trusted that his brother would protect it with his life.

The only problem was, he had no idea if Stanley would want to come or not. It had been a long time, time in which anything could have happened. Who knew who his brother even was anymore? If his brother had changed, like he had changed.

But he had to try. The shadows were getting darker each day that passed, the whispers were getting louder. Winter had settled in and it brought with it a bitter chill that settled into every corner of his home. He saw Bill everywhere he went, the paranoia growing. He had boarded up his windows and put barbed wire around his house, but what if it wasn't enough? What if Bill found a way to get in regardless? It was maddening, and he needed it to end. And for that, he needed his brother. He needed Stanley.

So he'd send him a post card and pray that he'd come. But what to write... How could he encompass the urgency, the fierce need for his twin's help? What words would be enough to get his brother to drop whatever he was doing and help him?

Well... He could always just keep it short and sweet. His brother had never been a complicated man; he had always preferred simple solutions, rather than the complicated ones Stanford had always come up with. Perhaps a short request would work.

'Please come.' Simple. It captured the urgency and the need, without being too messy with an abundance of words. Now he could send it and pray that his brother would respond. And if he didn't, well, he'd just have to find something else to do. But who else did he trust to take his journal, the last of his life's work?

He would give his brother a month to decide if he would come or not. After that, he would move into plan B (once he came up with plan B that is). He wrote the address he had found neatly on the card and quickly left his home to put it into the mailbox. He dashed back inside as soon as he could, not wanting to be exposed for too long.

There. It was done. It was all up to his brother now. Now, back to figuring out what to do with the portal...

Should he destroy it? But he had spent two long years working on it. How could he destroy something that had so much of him inside it? Hopefully, with the Journals gone, no one would be able to use it, but there was always the possibility that Bill would get someone inside his home and use it that way. What could he do that would permanently disable it, without destroying it completely?

He continued to puzzle over it for hours, jumping whenever the house creaked, moving only to use the bathroom or to eat some of the food he had stored in his pantry. When night fell, he was still sitting in his study, not daring to go to his room to sleep. He didn't need sleep anyway. Sleep just brought Bill, or nightmares.

God he hoped things got better soon. He couldn't live like this. He couldn't.

* * *

His brother looked different than he remembered. It made sense, he guessed. It had been over ten years since he had seen him last. It was still weird, though. But he didn't have much time to think about how different or similar Stanley was; there were more important things to worry about.

Twenty eight years old and nervous, Stanford pulled his brother inside the house quickly, shinning his flashlight into the man's eyes to make sure he wasn't Bill. Couldn't be too careful, after all. Stanley, of course, pulled away.

"Ah! Hey! What is this?" His brother demanded, glaring at him indignantly. Stanford grimaced lightly, knowing he wasn't getting off to a good start. But time was of the essence. He didn't have time to explain everything.

He shifted his eyes, apologizing briefly, before waving the weird entrance off and ushering his brother inside, into his study. Somewhere private. He then explained how he had made some terrible mistakes and didn't know who he could trust anymore. He could see that Stanley was starting to looked freaked out. His brother had put a hand on his shoulder and said that they should talk this through, his eyes comforting. It caused a pang inside of him. He knew that Stanley thought he was nuts. Maybe he was right. But simply talking wouldn't help. He had no idea how to explain. He would just have to show him, he supposed.

"I have something to show you." He claimed, feeling a bit nervous. "Something you won't believe."

He watched as his brother gave him an unimpressed look. "Look, I've been around the world, okay? Whatever it is, I'll understand."

Doubtful, but he didn't have to understand. He just had to take the book and sail away from him. He just had to keep it safe.

The journey down to his lab was filled with a tense silence, his brother standing near to the wall, while Stanford made sure to keep his eyes moving. He had to make sure no one was following. He had to be careful.

Upon reaching the lab, he brought Stanley over to the portal and watched his twin's reaction upon seeing it. Stanley stood there for a few moments, before claiming there was 'nothing about this' he understood. Understandable. He would explain, then. He had to at least get his brother to understand his need to hide the journal. He had to. Please, God, he had to. He couldn't keep living like this. He _couldn't_.

"It's a trans-universal gateway, a punched hole through a weak spot in our dimension. I created it to unlock the mysteries of the universe. But it could just as easily be harnessed for terrible destruction. That's why I shut it down and hid my journals, which explained how to operate it. There's only one journal left. And you are the only person I can trust to take it." He explained, looking his twin in the eyes while handing over the journal. He tried to express to his brother his seriousness through his eyes.

"I have something to ask of you; you remember our plans to sail around the world on a boat?" He asked, feeling relief upon seeing the recognition in his brother's eyes. He understood. That... That was great. "Take this book, get on a boat, and sail as far away as ya can! To the edge of the Earth! Bury it where no one can find it!"

He walked away from his twin then, his mind full of thoughts about what he would do once his brother had taken the book and had left. Now that Stanley understood, of course he would do as he asked. He could worry about the portal now. What a relief.

He didn't, however, expect to hear his brother shouting at him.

"That's it?! Ya finally wanna see me after ten years, and it's to tell me to get as far away from you as possible!?" Stanley exclaimed, anger clear in his voice. Annoyed, and frustrated, Stanford turned back towards his twin and threw his hands up in exasperation.

"Stanley, you don't understand what I'm up against! What I've been through!" He shot back, thinking about everything Bill had done to him, had made him do. Why couldn't his brother just trust him? Why did he have to make this so difficult?

"No, no. You don't understand what I've been through! I've been to prison in three different countries! I once had to chew my way out of the trunk of a car! You think you've got problems? I've got a mullet, Stanford!" His brother exclaimed, gesturing to his hair. Stanford didn't even have time to feel concern for what his brother had been through, though, when Stanley continued. "Meanwhile, where have you been? Living it up in your fancy house in the woods! Selfishly hoarding your college money, because you only care about yourself."

Him, selfish? Him, _selfish?!_ Oh that was a good one. He could feel indignation filling him, temporarily replacing the frantic paranoia he had previously been feeling. How could Stanley say that to him, after costing him his dream school?! After almost ruining his life?! He was giving his brother a chance to do something good for once, something that mattered, and the stubborn man wouldn't even listen! He said as much to his twin, his frustration bubbling over.

Watching his brother hold that lighter under his life's work... He could feel his heart freeze. He hadn't thought that Stanley would do that. His brother knew how much he hated it when people destroyed his work! Panicked, he grabbed for the Journal, only to have Stanley yank it back.

"You said you wanted me to have it so I'll do what I want with it!" The man shouted, that lighter back under his journal. His research!

Desperate to get his brother away from his work, he tackled him, sending them skidding across the floor while the Journal stayed in place. He got up and scrambled after it, but Stanley tripped him and got to it first.

"Stanley, give it back!" He demanded- pleaded- as he pushed his twin back, needing him to let the journal go. He only vaguely noticed the portal turning on as the two shouted, too invested in their argument. He grabbed the journal and tugged, landing on the ground but still with his grip on the book.

He listened as his brother claimed he ruined his life, saying how it was 'supposed to be us forever!' That was rich. He hadn't ruined his brother's life; his brother ruined his own life! He spent so long wallowing in his own self-pity that he couldn't even be bothered to make something of himself! How was that Stanford's fault?! He kicked his brother back, forcing the man to let go of the journal.

Seeing his brother scream in pain... That caused the haze of fear, anger, and hurt to dissipate, leaving only concern for his twin. He hadn't wanted Stanley to get hurt; he never wanted to see his twin in pain. He had tried to apologize, to help his twin. Getting punched in the face, however, made the concern die and brought the anger right back. He glared as his brother strode up to him, a glower on his face.

"Some brother you turned out to be. You care more about your dumb mysteries than your family? Well then, YOU CAN HAVE 'EM." His brother shouted, giving him one last push. Right over the yellow line. He hadn't even realized they had moved into the portal room.

All the anger in him drained out once again, replaced by chilling fear as he felt himself getting pulled backwards into the portal. Oh no... He could distantly hear his brother yelling at him, but he didn't understand what he was saying, deafened by his panic.

"Stanley! Stanley, help me!" He pleaded, needing his twin to do something other than just _stand there_. This portal had driven Fiddleford insane with just one glance. He couldn't go in there!

"Stanley! Stanley! Do something! Stanley!" He screamed, throwing his Journal at the man, praying he would figure out what to do quickly. But just as the Journal left his hands, a bright light engulfed him and he could feel a chilling cold surrounding his body. And then the pain kicked in.

Fire. It felt like fire. Like he was getting burned alive, like his insides were liquefying. He didn't know who he was, he didn't know what was happening; all he knew was pain. Images flashed before his eyes, but what were they? Voices, screams of pain echoed, but he couldn't make anything out. He could feel his mind splitting, he could feel his lungs bursting. It seemed to go on for an eternity, before abruptly stopping.

He didn't know what was going on. He didn't know where he was. He opened his eyes but all he saw was darkness. He tried to listen but all he heard was nothing. Fear and panic settled in and he tried to scream, but no noise came out. What was going on?! Where was he?! Help! Someone, please help!

But no one came.

He was lost. And he had no idea how to get back home.


	6. Chapter 6

Hey everyone!

So. This is it. The chapter that I both dread and am excited about. The portal.

I'll be honest with you. I'm unsure on what to think about this chapter. At first, I liked it. It's different. But as I reread, I realized it's a bit... too disjointed. Too bizarre. But I have no idea how else to write this topic. I have no idea what happened in the portal; Alex Hirsch says that it's the places that Bill likes to hang out, but honestly, what does that even mean? So I have this. It's kind of weird, but I hope it's not too bad for you all to read.

But, if you decide while reading this that you either A) don't have a clue what is going on, or B) hate it so much you don't want to read another word, I have written a brief summary of the chapter that you can read at the end. It goes over the main points of this chapter, explaining a bit where he was and why he loses his sanity so much.

Anyway. I'm gonna stop now before I sabotage myself anymore than I already have. I hope you like this.

Remember to review or comment!

* * *

 _~~~Some days I don't know if I am wrong or right~~~  
~~~Your mind is playing tricks on you, my dear~~~_

 _~~~Don't listen to a word I say~~~_  
 _~~~The screams all sound the same~~~_

 _-Little Talks, Of Monsters or Men_

* * *

Darkness. Silence. Panic. Fear.

Madness.

Twenty nine years old (was he? Was he twenty nine? He didn't know. He couldn't tell anymore) and going insane, Stanford stared into the maddening nothingness and continued to walk. Or at least, he thought he was walking. He didn't know. He didn't know if he even had a body. Was he real? Was anything real?

He could hear nothing, which he found a relief. Nothing was better than the screams of pain or terror. He couldn't see anything either, but he had gotten used to that a while back. He could feel the stares of monsters on his possibly imagined back. Every 'day', it was the same.

A scream sounded, causing him to falter. Maybe. If he could do that. It sounded close, right in his 'ear.' It was like someone was getting tortured right in front of him, yet he could do nothing. He wanted to cover his ears, but he didn't know how.

Was this Hell? He distantly recalled his Christian friends mentioning fire and brimstone, torture and pain. He didn't see any fire, but the taste of sulfur was constantly on his tongue. Maybe he was being punished? But why? For building the portal? What portal? He didn't know. He didn't know.

He kept walking, ignoring the screams echoing around the vast nothingness. What else could he do? Maybe one day he'd find something. Maybe one day he'd find his way out. Maybe. Maybe.

A roar. To his right. Another scream followed. He shuddered.

He ran. Could feel his legs moving. Could feel them, they were real, they had to be real. Where was he heading? Why was he running? Where is he? He ran. He ran. _He ran_.

He stopped. More screams. Why? He tried to cover his ears. He didn't have ears. He couldn't feel them. Do they exist? His hands refused to move. Do they exist? Does he exist? Who is he? Why was he here? He didn't know. Did he know?

Stanford. He was Stanford. Wasn't he? Who was Stanford? He tried to scream. Nothing. Never anything. He wanted to fall to his knees. He couldn't. Why?

He looked around. He could feel his neck moving. He could see nothing but he could feel. He felt stares on him. He wanted to hide. He couldn't hide. He wanted to run. He couldn't run, couldn't escape them. He was too tired. He wanted to sleep. But sleep didn't exist. Did it?

He walked. What else could he do? Stop? Give up? He wanted to but he couldn't. He can't. _He can't_. He had to get home. Home. Where was home? Did he have a home? He didn't remember. Why couldn't he remember?

Cold. So cold. He shivered. Maybe. He felt so, so cold. Did he? Yes. Cold. Pain and cold. Screams. He shivered.

Time passed. Maybe. Time didn't exist. Time was an illusion. It had told him that. What was It? Time was funny. He knew what it was. But he didn't. Time existed and didn't exist. Eons would pass, then seconds, then millennia. He was old. He was young. He was a child. He was dust. He then heard the faint echo of a laugh. A child. Who? He heard it sometimes. He chased it. Time passed. Nothing. He didn't know what disappointment was.

Who was he? He knew he was a person. Right? Right. A person. Human. He felt. Emotions. Anger pain fear hatred love betrayal. He didn't know how to feel them. He felt them. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He couldn't. _Why?_

He thought. His mind thought. He knew he thought, he was thinking right now. Wasn't he? Wasn't he? He didn't know. Stanford. Stanley. Names. He knew those names. Who were they? It hurt to think, now. It made him confused. He tried to stop thinking. He couldn't.

Time passed. Maybe. What was time anyway?

He blinked. Light. He stared. Light ahead. Was that light? What was light? It was bright. He remembered bright. Light. Something.

He ran. He was tried. He ran and ran and ran. He could see the light. It was small. Getting bigger. Light.

He ran. And ran. And ran. How long? Time didn't matter. He ran. The light stayed. Was it bigger? He thought it was bigger. Was it? He couldn't think. His mind felt jumbled.

He couldn't feel his heart. He knew he had a heart. He couldn't feel it. He thought it should be pumping. It wasn't. Did he have a heart? Was he real? Was he even alive? He didn't know. He ran.

The darkness seemed different. The screams sounded louder. So intense. He wanted to stop. He wanted to cry. He wanted. The light. He ran. The light. He needed.

Monsters grabbed at him. He felt them. He hadn't felt them before. He felt them now. It hurt. Pain hurt. What was pain? It made him want to laugh. It made him want to scream. He ran.

The light was bigger. It was brighter. He knew it was. He was getting closer. He could feel his hands. They felt weird. What were hands? He moved them. Weird. He ran.

Screams were deafening him. He could feel his ears, they cried. They bled. Blood. He felt them with his hands. Sticky. Warm. He hadn't felt warm in eons. He didn't know what warm was. He ran.

The light was blinding him. So bright. His eyes begged him to close them. He couldn't. Needed to see. Needed to run. Needed the light. The light! He ran.

So close. So close. So _close!_ So close! So close. So bright. So close. So warm. So close. So close. _So close._ He ran.

More monsters pulled at him. He dodged them. He hit them. He screamed at them. He screamed! He screamed! His heart pounded. It screamed. He ran.

The world started to shake. The ground was moving. It had never moved before. It was moving now. He nearly fell. He didn't. He ran.

So close. The light. So bright. Took up almost all of his vision now. How long had he been running? He didn't know. He hurt. Pain. He laughed. He cried. He screamed. He ran.

Suddenly. Nothing. No light. No dark. No sound. No pain. No him.

Then. Noise. Light. Dark. Body. Pain. Ow. Ow. Ow!

Screaming. No. God no. He whined. He wanted to scream. No. Nononononononononono. No. He hadn't made it. He hadn't made it. He didn't know why. Why. _Why._

The screaming was louder. Wait... No. Not screaming. It was a voice. But it... Didn't scream. Why didn't it scream?

It said things to him. Were they words? What were words? He didn't know what it was saying. He felt it touch him. Pain. He screamed. It moved away.

He couldn't see. Why? His eyes were closed. Open them? He didn't know how. He tried. Pain. He closed them. He cried. The touch was back. He screamed. The touch remained.

He was being moved. Something was moving him. He fought. He had to fight. It stopped him. It said words. Soothing. What was soothing? It calmed him. He whimpered. It hurt. He didn't feel like laughing anymore.

More words. He didn't understand. He felt something touch his face. He tried to move. It held him in place. Something touched his lips. He whined. He drank. He felt tired. He slept.

He didn't dream.

~XoxoxoxoxoxoX~

When he woke, he screamed. He was in pain. Everything hurt and he didn't know where he was. He tried to open his eyes. All he saw was darkness. No. Where was he? He felt something on his arm. He lifted his arm. It felt heavy. He heard something. It sounded like running. Feet? Yes. He felt something touch his arm. Pushed it down. He heard words. They were words. He knew they were words. What did they mean? He didn't know. Why didn't he know? He should know. He didn't.

He felt something touch his head. He felt his head get lifted up. Something got removed. Light. He screamed. He closed his eyes. He heard sound. He felt something touch his face. Heard words. He wanted to open his eyes again, but he was afraid. He didn't like pain.

Time passed. Seconds? Minutes? Eons? He didn't know. He started to shake, fear settling in his heart. He didn't know where he was. He was afraid. He wanted to go home. He wanted Stanley. Who was Stanley? He didn't know. He wanted to go home.

He felt something touch his mouth again. It was cold. He didn't want to drink but he did. The pain faded. Not completely. But a bit. He opened his eyes. Pain. He kept his eyes open.

The world looked weird. Bright. He looked to the left. He saw something. A table? No. Not the right word. Drawer? Yes. He looked right. Eye. He screamed.

The eye widened. It looked scared. He was scared. He didn't like this. The eye scared him. Why? He felt something touch his arm. He looked. A hand? Weird. It didn't look like a hand. What was a hand, anyway?

He blinked. He saw more. The world around him was strange. Was this home? No... It was weird. He had never been here before. He didn't think he had been here before. He had no memory of this place. It was bright. He felt a hand touch his face, turning it. The eye was back, but now he also saw a mouth. No nose. Why no nose?

Was that a human? It didn't look human. He was a human. Did he look like that? He looked down. No. He was pale. That was orange. It wasn't human. What was it? It spoke. He didn't understand. He shook his head. It looked frustrated. It left. He was confused.

Time passed. Maybe. He looked around and tried to figure out where he was. He was somewhere. He knew that. He hadn't been somewhere in millennia. He didn't know what to think.

His mind was weird. He kept remembering things and then forgetting them. He had never noticed before. He did now. Was that normal? He didn't know if it was. He didn't remember what normal was. Maybe he'd remember. Someday.

The thing came back. With it was another thing. It was orange too. No nose. One eye. Was that normal? Was he the weird one? Maybe. They had weird hands. They had ten fingers per hand. They had four hands. Forty fingers. He had twelve. He counted.

The new thing spoke to him. Words echoed in his head. He knew these words. He knew them. He didn't understand, but he _knew_. He knew he knew. He tried to speak. It hurt. He tried again. He couldn't. He cried. He didn't know why. The thing continued to speak. It was familiar. He loved those words. He knew them. When the thing fell silent and left, he cried.

~XoxoxoxoxoxoX~

Days passed. Possibly. The light never faded, but he felt like time was passing. The things would come in sometimes. They brought him things to drink. Things to eat. He had forgotten what eating was. He remembered and loved it. It made him feel better. The thing spoke to him. He still didn't understand, but he almost did. He wanted to understand. They changed the things on his arms and chest and head and legs. It was fabric. Red. Red wasn't good. He didn't know how he knew that, but he did. Each time the things came in, though, it was less red. That was good. He thought.

He spent a lot of time alone. He didn't like it. It made him scared. He didn't know why. He couldn't remember. He remembered a lot more nowadays but it always faded. He tried to remember. He couldn't. He cried. He sobbed. He screamed. The things came in whenever he did that and comforted him. He liked that.

More time passed. Days. A week. He knew it did. He could feel it, now. He could sit up. He could move his hands. His fingers moved like worms. What were worms? Creatures. Creatures that liked mud. Mud? Dirt. Earth. Soil. Brown. Sticky. Don't track mud into the house, Stanley. Who was Stanley?

He ate and drank and listened to the things talk. Words. He almost knew them. So close. Maybe tomorrow.

He could see lines on his arms now. They had taken the fabric away and now he had red lines. He had them on his legs and chest too. He didn't like them. They were wrong. He scratched at them sometimes. Red liquid came out. Blood. He knew blood. It was bad. Stanley was covered in blood. He was grinning. Why was he grinning? It must hurt. He blinked. Stanley? Who was Stanley? He forgot.

He stood up. His legs wanted to collapse. He didn't let them. He took a step forward. Towards the door. He moved his hand and opened it. He didn't know what he was looking for. He had to move. He needed to run. Why did he need to run? He shook his head. He blinked. He didn't remember. He walked.

The things were sitting. They looked up at him. They looked startled. He heard them yelling, but he didn't know what they said. He remembered a lot. He didn't remember words yet. He would one day. He knew it.

The things tried to get him to go back to his room. He said no. He said? Yes. Yes, he said. They looked surprised. He was surprised. They spoke again, excited. He didn't know what they said. He felt disappointed.

He looked around the room he was in. It was bright. Weird colors. He couldn't describe them. They were bright. They hurt his eyes. He didn't like them. He frowned.

The things were tugging on him now. Why? Did they want something? Some were small. Children? Maybe. He knew children. His brother had a child. Not Stanley. The other one. He blinked. Who? He didn't remember. He wanted to remember.

He let them lead him over towards the other door. He went outside. It was weird. No trees. No grass. No blue sky. He remembered these things, they were normal. This wasn't normal. The air seemed to shimmer, the sky was a weird color he had no name for. What he assumed were roads were magenta. Not black. He walked on it. It was soft. Not hard.

The things led him around, pointing things out. They said words and he tried to comprehend. He couldn't. Why couldn't he? He remembered so much, why couldn't he remember words?

After time had passed (minutes not days he was sure of it) the things led him back inside. They led him to his room. He sat on the bed and tried not to cry. He cried a lot lately. He didn't know why. He was sad. He wanted to go home. He didn't know where home was. Oh. He cried.

~XoxoxoxoxoxoX~

More days passed. He got better. Still not perfect. But better. The beings looked happier around him now. He didn't know what they said but he assumed they were happy. He was glad. Maybe if he got better quicker, he could find home.

He had finally learned his age. Thirty one. He had thought he was twenty nine. Had time passed when he wasn't looking? Maybe. Maybe. He didn't know. He felt old. He felt tired. He wanted Stanley and who was Stanley? Why did he constantly remember that name? Was he important? He felt confused. Everything was still so fuzzy. Time was weird. It passed and yet didn't pass.

He noticed that his face was full of hair. It wasn't normally. He didn't think. He would run his hands over it and scowl. He couldn't see himself. The beings that lived here didn't have mirrors. He found that strange, but whatever. Perhaps light worked differently here than it did on Earth. Maybe light didn't reflect here. Puzzling. He still didn't like the hair. How could he fix it? He didn't know.

The beings still spoke to him. He now moved around blithely, following them as they showed him things. Things he didn't think they had on Earth. It made something inside him want to investigate. But he didn't. He didn't know how. Not yet. One day.

He ate with them as well. On a table. Or, he thought it was a table. It looked weirder than the ones they had on Earth, but he was used to that now. This place was different. The food was different too. But not bad. He guessed. He doesn't really remember the food he ate at home. He noticed that the beings only ate with him occasionally. He wondered if they needed less food to survive than he did. He wondered if they knew what humans were. Maybe they did and that was why they knew how to help him. Maybe that was why they knew his language, since he had noticed them speaking other words. Ones that didn't feel familiar. He would have to look into it one day.

His body hurt sometimes. Random pains. His wounds were healing, but they still ached. He no longer scratched at them, but he wanted to. They stung. He could tell that they would scar over. He'd have to cover them up. He didn't know why he would have to, he simply did. He didn't like them. Maybe that was why. His lungs hurt the most. He remembered they had burst at one point. How was he living if they had burst? Maybe they had healed. Could lungs do that? Who knew.

He had started having dreams a few days previous. He only slept when he felt really tired, which was frequently. His dreams were weird. Not nightmares, but still. They scared him. Visions of things he had used to know, he assumed. Monsters, creatures, a face. Always the same face. Anger, pain, fear. He didn't know who he was. He wanted to know but he didn't. He hated that face. He loved that face. He was angry at that face. Why? What had that face done to deserve the anger that he felt? He didn't know. It was frustrating.

~XoxoxoxoxoxoX~

More days passed. He was getting better. The fuzziness in his head was reducing. He could speak now. Words that had no meaning but did. He could tell that the Beings (he had no idea what to call them, they were so different to anything he had seen on Earth) didn't know what he was saying, but since they spoke English, he assumed it was him that was messing up. He tried harder to remember language. It was difficult. Part of his brain just didn't want to learn. It frustrated him, but he had learned to communicate in other ways. For instance, whenever one the Beings open and closed one of their hands, he knew they were asking how he was. He would reply with a thumb up if he was okay, or a thumb down if he wasn't. The hand signs were useful.

He had also learned how to shave. He had found a sharp knife like thing in what he assumed was the kitchen a day ago (or what he called a day; time worked differently here than it did on earth. He had yet to see the Beings sleep) and had run his hand over it, causing it to prick his finger. He knew what it was and he knew that he disliked his facial hair. So, carefully since there was no mirror, he had cut the hair off. He ran his hands over his face and nodded. It felt right.

He missed his glasses, though. He hadn't realized at first, why things were so blurry. He had just assumed it was the world he was in; that it was one of the differences between this world and his own. But as he got his memories back, he realized it was because his glasses were missing. He didn't know why they were missing, but they were. He wondered if he could find an optometrist in this world... Probably not. Not if light didn't reflect here. Oh well.

He had remembered another name the other day. Fiddleford. He could vaguely see a man with brown hair and round glasses. He didn't know who this man was, like he didn't know who Stanley was, but he felt guilt upon thinking that name. And affection. Were they lovers? No... Not the right word. Friends? Yes. That fit. Partners. For what? He didn't know. He wished he did. He missed Fiddleford and wanted to know why.

There was another name that he remembered, but he didn't like that name. It was a bad name. Bill. It sent shivers down his spine. Why? Who was Bill, why was he so afraid of him? Him? It? He only remembered yellow and black alongside the name. The knowledge had come to him in a dream. He didn't know why it terrified him so much.

~XoxoxoxoxoxoX~

More days passed. A week. Maybe. He still wasn't quite sure; time was strange here. The sun never seemed to set and the Beings never seemed to sleep. He tried to ask about it but his words got jumbled up.

When he had first understood a word, he had felt his heart leap for joy. Finally! As the days had passed, he learned more and more. He now knew as many words as a human toddler. Not much, but at least he could communicate somewhat. He had also learned the Beings' species name, but he didn't know how to pronounce it. It wasn't a word that translated into English. He continued to call them The Beings in his mind. Not a very sophisticated name, but it was easier than creating a new one for them.

He called the individual ones their own names, names he gave them since he couldn't pronounce their real ones. Names that he knew but didn't cause any emotions to form inside him. The main one, the one that had taken care of him when he was sick, was named Marie. The one that had helped the main one, the one that he had seen at first, was Albert. The children were Isaac and Thomas. He didn't know if these creatures had genders, but he supposed it didn't matter. He always thought of the main one as a woman, since they reminded him a bit of his mother, whoever she was.

Currently, he was staring up at the sky, wondering what color it was, and how he was able to perceive it if his cones were only accustomed to the colors of his planet. It was strange. He could feel something sit beside him and he looked over, smiling at Marie as they stared at him. He still felt freaked out by their one eye, but didn't know why. Maybe it was because it was different. Probably.

"You, cold? Is cold. You come in. Must. Weak, you are not strong. Sick." They said. He only understood a few of the words they said, but got the general gist. They wanted him to come inside. He supposed it was pretty cold... He never noticed the cold, not anymore. So long inside that void of nothingness, with only the cold inside him, had desensitized him to the feeling. He was always cold now, so more cold or more heat didn't matter much to him. But he would trust Marie. Maybe night was finally coming in. He wondered how long it would take to arrive. He hoped it wouldn't come soon. He hated the dark. It made him jumpy and afraid.

He got up and followed Marie inside. He could smell food cooking, some scent that he didn't recognize from Earth. He ate when the food was presented to him. It was good. He liked it. He thanked Albert, who nodded awkwardly. Albert didn't know much English, he had noticed. The children did, and Marie did, but Albert seemed to be less proficient at it. That was alright. He didn't blame them. English was confusing.

~XoxoxoxoxoxoX~

More time passed. He had been here a while, he realized one day as he was walking down the street. He had learned the name of the planet a while before, but like the rest of their language, he couldn't pronounce it. He was told that it was known to other dimensions as Dimension 52. He didn't know why it was, but he guessed that that was what he would have to call it.

He remembered who Fiddleford was now. His friend. From college. He had went insane, going inside something. A portal? Perhaps. The same thing that had trapped him in the void. He didn't blame Fiddleford for going insane. The void was terrifying. He still had nightmares about it.

He also knew who Stanley was. His brother. The one who had pushed him into the void. He didn't know much more than that, but he knew that there was more to it. He remembered snippets of a life, all filled with the same face. Stanley's face. Love, hate. Both. He didn't know.

And as for Bill… he shuddered. Bill. His former friend. The demon. The one who had tricked and betrayed him. He hated that triangle.

He was older now, he could feel himself aging. He had estimated that a couple months had passed since he had first arrived in this dimension. A couple months on Earth, that is. The sun still had not set in Dimension 52. He felt older. He felt ancient. His bones ached when he walked. His scars burned. He hated them. He really did.

He knew that he was going to have to leave this world soon. He didn't quite know why, but he knew that he needed to try and find a way home. Somehow. He had begun talking to Marie about it, as his English was almost perfect now (and he had learned that Marie knew English because a traveler from a place that traded supplies with the Earth equivalent of this dimension had come to Dimension 52 a while ago and had taught human culture, as well as English, to them. Most didn't use the knowledge they had learned, but Marie still remembered and had taught it to their children, as it was a novel language.)

Marie told him that there was an illegal port that would take him to different dimensions if he needed. They said that the port did not connect to the Earth he knew, since his world didn't have inter-dimensional travel yet, but it could take him somewhere he would be able to, perhaps, find his way back home. He had thanked Marie and told them that he would consider it. He wanted to go home, but he didn't know if he wanted to travel aimlessly, seeking something he didn't even know if he could find.

~XoxoxoxoxoxoX~

More time passed. Days and weeks. He remembered almost everything now. The portal. Bill. Stanley. Shermy. His parents. Gravity Falls. He still had blank spots, but they weren't as numerous as they had been. His mind was less fuzzy. He was almost normal now. He thought.

He also knew that he had to leave. He couldn't stay here. While he loved it, while Marie and Albert and the children had become like family to him, it wasn't where he belonged. He could feel an ache in his chest, a restlessness to set out. Maybe he wouldn't be able to find his way home, but he could perhaps find somewhere to fit. Somewhere that didn't make him want to claw his skin off with the itchy restlessness.

His departure was met with sadness, the children throwing their multiple arms around him. He patted them on the back and told them that he would try and come back one day, hoping he wasn't lying. Marie had given him a bag that would hold anything inside it, no matter how large, and had placed several years' worth of nonperishable food inside it. Just in case. Albert gave him a ray gun, to use against predators or other nasty creatures that lived in the between spaces. He thanked them all and left for the port. He needed to get started if he wanted to find his way home.

For he would. He knew he would. His mind was his own again. His world wasn't as fuzzy as it had been. He noticed time passing, he noticed himself aging. He wanted to go home, back to Earth. The Portal was dangerous, he knew that. But perhaps there was another way he could get back.

And even if he couldn't get home, he could at least learn all he could about the universe.

Life in Dimension 52 was easy. It was simple. But he didn't want easy or simple. He wanted answers. And if he couldn't go home, he might as well learn some.

So he set out. For what, he didn't know. But he'd be damned if he didn't find something.

* * *

Summary of the chapter:

At first, Stanford is trapped in a void between the nightmare realm and the rest of the dimensions. He spends years here (from age 28 to age 31 [he was mistaken when he thinks he is 29], so 3-ish years) and thus loses his sanity. He is unable to fully remember who he is, only the barest memory remaining of who he used to be. While in the void, time means nothing to him. The equivalent of days feels like eons to him, since there is no light, no sound outside of screaming, and no sense of order. He spends these years living in fear of everything, unable to understand what is happening to him and around him.

One day he finds a crack in the void, which allows him to escape. The monsters from the nightmare realm notice his leaving and try and get him to stop, clawing at him and scratching him, but he is able to fight them off, using adrenaline and instinct. He manages to slip into the crack and comes out in a dimension of weird alien creatures, who help him not only heal, but also regain his fragile sanity. He spends months in this dimension as he tries to remember how to speak, how to comprehend language, and who he used to be. Once he heals enough, he starts to notice a restlessness inside of him, a need to leave this peaceful dimension and find his home. He waits another month before setting out, saying goodbye to the alien creatures who took him in. The Beings, which he named Albert and Marie, give him a ray gun to protect himself, as well as a bag that will hold an infinite amount of things. He then goes into the multiverse, travelling in the 'between spaces,' looking for either a way home, or answers to the universe. Whichever one he can find first.


	7. Chapter 7

Hey all.

So this chapter goes into Stanford's life in the multiverse, after he had left Dimension 52 (which, if anyone didn't catch, was actually a reference to the show. Stanford thinks while wearing the mind blocking thing, in The Last Mabelcorn, that he missed Dimension 52). To be honest, I have no idea how to write about sci-fi things, since sci-fi is not my thing. And the multiverse is, without a doubt, science fiction. I did my best, but please note that this is just an interpretation of what happened, not what I really believe had happened to Ford.

I also wanted to thank everyone who reviewed yesterday. I love reading about how people are reacting to my work, since it reminds me that there are people who enjoy this. I'm more a psychology nut than a writer, so I'm glad y'all are enjoying how I'm writing this.

So please remember to review/comment today! Even if it's just a quick "I like this" or even a "I'm still reading this" it will be appreciated.

Hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

 _~~~I'm too young to lose my soul~~~  
~~~I'm too young to feel this old~~~  
~~~So long; I'm left behind~~~  
~~~I feel like I'm losing my mind~~~ _

_-World So Cold, Three Days Grace_

* * *

He sat at the inter-dimensional bar and took a sip of the strong, bitter alcohol the creatures of the between spaces enjoyed. It made his face tingle and his stomach lurch, but it wasn't the worst thing he had ever tasted. It would have to do.

Forty years old and ragged, Stanford looked around the old bar and spotted each individual who looked like they might cause a problem, knowing that he had to keep an eye on them. He was only in here as a brief stopover; he didn't want to get into any fights. Didn't mean he wouldn't, though, if he had to.

He took another sip and tried not to grimace as the sludge slowly moved down his esophagus and into his stomach. He noticed a bright blue creature with a hundred tentacles stand up and walk over to the bar. He kept his hand on his gun.

The multiverse was not all it was cracked up to be, he thought bitterly as he stayed on high alert. Had he known it was like this, he never would have built that portal in the first place. Even if Bill hadn't duped him, he wasn't sure the multiverse was a good place for humans to be. At least, not humans from 1981. Or whatever year it was at home now. 1993?

The years he had been traveling had been long. After leaving Dimension 52, he had spent the equivalent of months traveling from port to port, scoping the different dimensions out. He went to many different worlds and dimensions, some friendly, some not. He stowed away on the backs of ships, slipped passed security into different portals... Anything that would allow him to travel unhindered. Some of the places he went to, though, were terrible. Horror and gore and blood everywhere. He hated those places the most. The stench never quite left his nose.

During those first several months, he had had to quickly learn how to fight. How to defend himself. He had already known the basics, from the days he had boxed, but he had still had a lot of learning to do. One of the first things he had made sure to learn was how to use the ray gun Albert had given him. It was very powerful, and once he had figured out the mechanics, he had put it to good use during fights and battles. Because of the fights, he had gained numerous scars over the years, adding to the ones he had gotten while in the void. He made sure to keep them all covered, never wanting to really see them. They just brought up bad memories.

During the years he had spent traveling, he had also learned many secrets of the multiverse. He had searched far and wide, trying to find a way out, and while he was doing that, he had found many hidden texts with secrets within them. Many beings who had lived for eons who had answered a couple of his questions. He still had no idea how to escape the multiverse, but at least he understood the meaning of life now. So that was cool.

But he constantly longed for home. For Earth. His memories were still a bit fuzzy, but he remembered blue skies and green grass. He remembered the feeling of salt water lapping at his feet while he sat on the hot dock, cool ice cream in hand. He remembered the chill wind whistling through his hair and the bright sun warm on his face. A few of the places he went had things similar to those that he remembered, but none were quite right.

He had tried to settle down, once, a few years into his wandering. He had gotten tired; tired of wandering, tired of never belonging. Only, he found out that he couldn't. The longer he stayed in one place, the more restless he grew. Like his body and mind knew he didn't belong there and was trying to force him out. It was maddening to feel. So, after a month of staying in a beautiful dimension with creatures that were almost human but not quite, he left and started his searching again. There wasn't much else he could do, after all. Couldn't stay in one place, couldn't go home… all he could do was wander.

The multiverse was infinite, he believed. He had travelled to enough places by now to know that the whole multiverse stretched endlessly. Millions of different dimensions with their own galaxies, their own life forces. It wasn't a surprise he hadn't been able to get back to his own. It didn't help that time technically didn't exist, not as humans perceived it at least. Any one dimension he traveled into could either be one that was eons ahead of his own, or eons behind it. It was confusing, but he had a small idea of how it all worked. Almost understanding didn't help him figure out how to get home, though. It had all started to seem hopeless years ago.

But he would keep trying to find his way out. To find his way home. Because he didn't belong out here, lost in the multiverse. Wandering endlessly, neither here nor there. Losing his mind slowly, which was terrifying after having already lost it completely once. He shuddered as he took another sip of his swill.

The void still haunted him. Some days, when he closed his eyes, he could feel the intense cold. Could hear the screams of pain and horror. Could feel the stares. He would have to open his eyes quickly to make sure that he wasn't back in there. Nothing he had come across over the years- not the realms of horror, not the mutilated body parts, not the terrifying creatures he fought on a daily basis- was as terrifying as the void. The vast nothingness that had stolen his sanity for over three years. He still had trouble remembering sometimes, because of that place. Names would slip from his mind. Memories would get temporarily forgotten. For a while, he hadn't even remembered his own name.

The one name that had never left him, however, was Stanley. His brother. He didn't know why his mind held so tightly to his twin's name, but it did. He had never forgotten it; not while in the void, not while he was recovering, and not when he had relapses. He might not have known who the man was, but he had never forgotten his name or face. Stanley was the one constant in his life. And the irony was bitter.

He was still furious at his twin. It was _his fault_ , after all. Had Stanley just trusted him, had he just done as Stanford had asked… had he not pushed him in… Then he'd never have entered the void in the first place. He'd never have gotten trapped in the multiverse. It was all Stanley's fault. He didn't know why he had ever loved the man. He didn't now. He didn't know what love was, anymore. He couldn't. Love didn't exist, here in the wastelands of the multiverse. It was a weakness he couldn't afford. Not if he wanted to survive.

He heard a sound behind him, someone slamming against a table. He turned quickly, his thoughts broken as he reached for his gun.

The bright blue creature. It was standing over the bar top, screeching loudly as more of its kind flooded in. He scowled as he downed the rest of his sludge, hefting the ray gun up and aiming it at one of the creatures. He had made some adjustments to it over the years, and it now fired blasts strong enough to disintegrate anything, but also was able to fire rounds that simply stunned. Today, he had it set to kill. He didn't have time to play nice. Besides, the creature looked like it was an invader. Liked to kill beings and lay eggs in their eyes. He didn't feel bad for killing them all.

Once the creatures were nothing but dust, he left the bar, his long coat billowing in the light breeze. He didn't want to have to deal with the cleanup. Besides, he should probably catch his ship; he was stowed away in an inter-dimensional military carrier and he didn't want to get left behind in the between space. It was never an enjoyable experience, here in this wasteland of crime and fear. Neither here nor there; simply between.

As he stealthily entered the ship, he wondered what he would do if he ever did find a way home. What that would be like. He had spent so long traveling; would he ever be able to get used to life on Earth again? He hoped so; living out here, stranded in the multiverse, was no way to live. Constantly living in fear of the unknown. He hated it. He wanted someplace to call his own.

Until then, until the day he could find a way to get home (that didn't involve the portal he had created) he guessed he would just have to continue fighting his way through the multiverse.

Well, he'd been doing this for eight years now.

Maybe one day he'd get used to it all.

He cursed as he dodged a beam of deadly light, the laser beam coming an inch from his face. He dived behind a pile of rubble and waited, tensely, for an opportunity to strike.

Sixty years old and exhausted, Stanford counted to ten before darting back up, shooting three beams of his ray gun skillfully. He heard the unmistakable sound of bodies hitting the ground and breathed a sigh of relief. He continued to stay behind his make-shift shield, listening to make sure he had gotten all three of the monsters he had been fighting. A minute passed before he decided the coast was clear and got up, grimacing at the green blood that was splattered all around the walls. Disgusting.

He could feel his heart beating with adrenaline as he looked around the ruins of the house he was in, on high alert for anything that seemed out of place. Couldn't be too careful, in situations such as this. Fights with inter dimensional rebels were never something to take lightly. He carefully exited the ruins, keeping his eyes out for any more aliens, and walked over to the hover bike he had hidden there; a useful invention, if he said so himself. Had only taken him a few months to construct, even. And, it was able to travel through the mini portable portal he had been gifted as a reward several years beforehand, so he was able to take it with him on his travels.

He boarded his bike and drove off, needing to find the best place to exit this dimension. He didn't like it here, as it smelled faintly of sewage and decay. He had been here for a week and he didn't want to stay any longer.

When he found the prime spot to travel in, he entered a safe coordinate into his watch/portal device and felt the nauseating sensation of inter dimensional travel hit him. He wasn't quite sure where he was headed, but as long as it was safe, he'd be fine with it. He just needed a place to rest.

He was in luck; he was dropped off in a sunny field of giant dandelion like things. Seemed tame enough, he thought as he got off the bike and laid down in the tall blades of grass, exhaustion filling his mind.

What a day. What a year. What a decade. He found it hard to believe he had been lost in the multiverse for thirty years, three of which he had spent stranded in the void between dimensions. It had felt like eons longer. His bones ached. He was getting too old for this.

He had spent the past several decades fighting. Mostly. Either that, or he was inventing or wandering the multiverse. He had seen probably hundreds of dimensions over those years, maybe even thousands. He felt exhausted from the constant moving and fight or flight situations. But he didn't know what else to do.

For the first several years after the void, he had tried to find his way home. He had searched everywhere, trying to find the right coordinates for Earth, for the correct time. It had taken him ten years before he had finally given up. After all, there was no point in trying to get home when everything he tried had failed.

So he had resigned himself to staying lost in the multiverse until he died. And now all he did was wander, and fight, and invent. There wasn't much else he could do, when he couldn't settle anywhere. Well, he supposed he could settle; he could always try harder to suppress the restlessness, learn to live with the anxiety. He simply didn't want to. If it wasn't Earth, he didn't care. Not anymore. After all, he didn't really belong anywhere, not now. So he fought. And he built. And he survived.

And it wasn't so bad. It wasn't the life he had ever wanted, but he had made the best of it. He still longed for home, but he had realized that the only way to do that was to use his original portal. And using it would allow Bill to unleash hell on earth. Plus, he was on the wrong side to use it. So, he made do. He refused to roll over and die. He was Stanford Filbrick Pines. He wouldn't give up that easily.

It took him over an hour to fall asleep that night, his body still wired from the fight. When he finally fell asleep, his nightmares attacked with a vengeance. He awoke several hours later, panting and cold. He didn't dwell for long, not wishing to spend too long in this layover dimension. So he got up, changed his clothes, and returned to his bike, putting on his protective glasses and putting his hood up high. He put in random coordinates into his portable portal device, not really caring where he was going to go. Probably not the smartest idea, not after that time he had gotten trapped briefly in a dimension that didn't have oxygen, but he was feeling adventurous. To his luck, he merely landed in what appeared to be a post-apocalyptic world, if the stranded streets and nearly collapsed buildings were any indication. Perfect. Maybe he'd even be able to find a battle. While he hadn't liked fighting at first, now it gave him something to do. A way to release any pent up anger inside of him. Cathartic, in a way.

It was as he was getting off the bike to look around the world that the bright light appeared. It was nearly blinding in its intensity. He put his arms up to shield his eyes, though he tensed up a second later when he realized what the light was. A portal.

But why was the portal there? Where did it lead? Was something going to exit it? He studied the light for a second, and felt a pull inside of him. He… he knew this portal. He didn't know how, but… it felt familiar. It was calling to him. His eyes widened. No... It couldn't be.

It was. It had to be. But how? His mind raced as he tried to think up how his portal could have turned on. He had shut it down! Had Bill found a way to turn it on? Why would the triangle look for him if he had? But who else know about the portal? Unless… He scowled. Of course. Stanley.

He had thrown his journal at his brother at the last minute. He hadn't been thinking; he had just wanted his twin to do something, to _help him_. Well, looked like the man had done it. Just thirty years too late.

His brother shouldn't have done this. He shouldn't have opened the portal. Stanford had left specific instructions to do anything _but_ open it! But... But Stanley had. And now… now he could go home.

The realization hit him like a sledge hammer. _Home_. For the first time in nearly fifteen years, he had the hope of going home again. While he still felt angry at his brother for opening the portal, he couldn't deny the relief he felt at seeing his ticket back to Earth.

He stared for a second longer before striding forward. Well, guess he'd better meet his destiny, or whatever. No use letting his one chance pass him by. He just hoped he wouldn't get stuck in the void again. That wouldn't be fun.

The second he passed into the portal, the pain started. He had expected it; his first portal was so primitive that it was really no wonder he had originally gotten trapped in the nothingness between the nightmare realm and the rest of the dimensions. But he pushed through, marching determinately onward. He felt only the smallest regrets at leaving his bike behind; it wouldn't do him much good at home anyway.

When he finally made it through, the pain ceasing, the first thing he noticed was his journal on the ground. The first one. The one he had thrown towards his brother. He strode forward and touched it, placing his hand over his handprint on the front cover. Then he picked it up and put it away.

So he had been right. His brother had brought him back. His heart was feeling overwhelmed by the onslaught of emotions he was feeling. Anger, hatred, and hurt mixed with relief, nostalgia, and giddiness. He took off his protective glasses and hood and looked around, needing to take in his old laboratory. He hadn't been here in so long…

When he heard someone talking, he turned towards them, a scowl lighting his features when he saw who it was. Stanley. It had to be. While he looked drastically different than the face that haunted his nightmares, he looked enough like their father and his old self that Stanford was able to recognize him. He felt the anger consume him, filling him up. His brother was smiling, holding his arms out wide, clearly looking for an embrace.

Stanford punched the man.

He had to admit it felt good.


	8. Chapter 8

Hey all.

So I've decided to start posting the chapters a bit later in the day. Partially because of school, partially because my grandparents are visiting and I'm spending a lot of time with them. I'll still, hopefully, be posting everyday (the whole story except the end is finished) it'll just be a bit later in the day.

Also! During this chapter, I realize I don't quite explain just why Ford is so angry in this chapter. I go into it a little, but not that much. Please note that I WILL be going over this is the next couple of chapters, in detail. Just so you know, in case anyone starts getting upset at Ford for being irrational.

I own none of the dialogue in this chapter.

Please remember to review/comment!

* * *

 _~~~No light, no light in your bright blue eyes~~~  
_ _~~~I never knew daylight could be so violent~~~  
_ _~~~A revelation in the light of day~~~  
_ _~~~You can't choose what stays and what fades away~~~_

 _-No Light, No Light, Florence + the Machine._

* * *

The world seemed to be holding its breath. Everything was set on pause while Stanford stared at the brother he hadn't seen in over thirty years.

Sixty years old and not knowing how to feel, Stanford watched as his brother reared back, an indignant look on his face.

"Oh! Ow! What the heck was that for?!" His twin demanded, anger clear on his face. Stanford scowled. What was that for? Oh so much, brother dearest. But he kept it to himself. They had bigger problems to worry about than his petty issues with his twin.

"This was an insanely risky move, restarting the portal! Didn't you read my warnings?!" He shouted, waving his arms to emphasize his point.

"Warnings, schmarnings. How's about maybe a thanks for saving you from what appears to be, I don't know, some kind of sci-fi side burn dimension?"

Oh. Oh, that was rich. His brother actually wanted gratitude?! He really thought that Stanford should be _grateful?!_ After what he had done?!

"Thank you? You really think I'm gonna _thank you_ after what you _DID THIRTY YEARS AGO?!"_ He shouted, anger flooding through him, bigger issues be damned. For so long he had been lost, and it was all his brother's fault. While yes, his brother might have 'saved' him in the end, it was too little, too late. Not to mention the fact that he might have destroyed the universe in the process. Why on earth would he be grateful?

"What I did? Why, you ungrateful..." His brother muttered as he lurched forward, attempting to hit him. Stanford felt slightly smug as he casually side-stepped and grabbed his brother from behind. "Don't expect me to go easy on you, just because you're... family." Oh, no need to worry about that from him. He had just slammed his twin to the ground when he heard a voice. A child. A child? He looked up and saw a girl standing there, no older than twelve, demanding to know what the heck was going on. Ah. Children. In his laboratory. He barely had to think before he got up and adjusted his clothing, not wishing to scare the girl. After all, it was not her fault that his brother was a moron.

"Stan, you didn't tell me there were children down here. And some sort of large, hairless gopher?" He stated, looking at the three unexpected individuals. The younger ones, the children, looked kind of shell shocked. The boy was standing in the corner, looking at him with wide eyes while the girl had a frown on her face, like she was trying to figure out who in the world he was.

"They're your family, Poindexter. Shermy's grandkids." His brother helpfully supplied. Oh. His great niece and nephew. His little nephew's son and daughter.

The news shocked him, somewhat. He had been gone so long, and while logically he knew things had to have changed, for some reason part of him had always expected life to be the same on Earth as it was when he had left it. It hadn't really occurred to him that his family would have continued living their lives, growing up and moving on. That his little nephew, only eleven years old when he had fallen into the portal, would grow up and have children of his own. It was shocking, to see the proof of that standing in front of him.

As he looked down at the girl, he felt his heart clench. His family… Once the shock faded somewhat, he got down on his knee and held out hand out towards the girl, all panic and anger forgotten as he tried to connect with his, supposed, great niece.

"Greetings. Do kids still say greetings? I haven't been in this dimension for a really long time."

"Whoa, a six-fingered handshake? It's a full finger friendlier than normal!"

Heh, funny. "Heha, I like this kid. She's weird." He smiled at her, but felt a pang of… something fill his heart. A feeling of familiarity. He didn't want to examine it, though, knowing that it would just lead him off track.

"I-I can't believe it. You're the author of the journals!" He heard a voice squeak behind him. Turning, he faced the male child, feeling pleasant surprise as he looked at his great nephew.

"You've read my journals?"

"I haven't just read them; I've lived them!" The boy claimed, walking around in circles. Okay… weird. Not that he was one to talk, though. His journals had always made him act a bit differently, too. He watched, concern filling him, as the boy started breathing heavily, looking as though he was going to be sick. Stanford would have done something, but ultimately decided to let the boy's sister help him through whatever was bothering him, knowing that she would be able to help more than he would.

While the child did… whatever he was doing, Stanford looked around the lab again, remembering with a jolt that he still had things to do, messes to clean up.

"Listen, there'll be time for introductions later. But first, tell me, Stan; are there any security breaches? Does anyone else know about this portal?" He turned towards his brother, needing to know just how big of a mistake he'd need to fix. When his brother told him that the _whole US government_ might know about his machine, he had wanted to scream. But he reined it in. He had to; there was a bigger issue at hand and he couldn't let his emotions get in the way.

The girl, whose name he still did not know, then asked in a roundabout way for the tale of their 'mysterious backstory.' Yes, he thought, that might be a good idea. Learning about what Stanley had been up to these past thirty years would help him figure out just how much trouble they were in. He said as much to his brother, using his name naturally.

But when the children said that Stanley's name wasn't Stanley, but instead was Stanford, he felt a thrill of unease and fear fill him. What? What did they mean, Stanley's name was Stanford? He was Stanford! Right? A second of panic passed before he realized what it most likely meant, though, and he felt anger flood through him. Oh that knuckleheaded…

"Wait, you took my name?! What have you been doing all these years, you knucklehead?!" He shouted, the anger bubbling inside of him again. How dare he?! It was one thing, going against his wishes and starting the portal up. It was another completely to _steal his name_ while doing so. He hoped Stanley had a good explanation for this.

He listened, carefully, as his brother detailed the beginning of their life. Their childhood and teenage years. How even though they were always so drastically different, they were two peas in a pod. He assumed this was for the benefit of the children, who apparently did not know their 'Grunkle's' past. It pained him somewhat, to hear about his and his brother's shared past, but he pushed the pain down.

It interested him to hear his brother's reasoning's for destroying his perpetual motion machine. Stanley claimed that it was an accident, that he had done it because he was afraid to lose him; he said it like it was an excuse. That was what interested Stanford. Did Stanley really believe that his fear made up for ruining his chance to go to a fantastic college and help the world? That his selfish need to keep his brother beside him justified his actions? Stanford wouldn't doubt it. Stanley always had looked out for himself, first and foremost.

It didn't surprise him that his twin had decided to try treasure hunting at first. It sounded like something he'd think was a good idea. It also didn't surprise him that Stanley had become a traveling salesman, mostly because he had figured that out while looking for his brother all those years ago. It had taken him two weeks to comb through all the fake identities and the list of banned states before he had found his brother's address, giving him ample time to discover his brother's failed business practice.

When the boy asked if he had gotten into his dream school, he decided to explain a bit about his part of the story, since the child seemed genuinely curious. He told how he went to Backupsmore and how he worked twice as hard to finish college as soon as possible. He then mentioned the beginning of his adventures in Gravity Falls.

When the boy started screaming about the Journals, Stanford was a bit startled, but he decided to ignore it. The boy sure seemed to be a fan of his... It made his heart warm slightly to know. While he may have missed the boy's life, at least his presence hadn't been completely absent.

Continuing with his story, he finally told of how he had started building the portal, though he left out his partnership with Bill Cipher. The children- and Stanley- didn't need to know how stupid and naive he had been. They didn't need to know his hidden shame.

He stopped talking at the point where he had contacted Stanley and let his brother tell his version of what had happened and what he had done after Stanford had fallen into the portal. He made sure to listen intently, needing to know what his brother had been doing all this time.

Hearing about how his brother took over his life, how he had spent thirty years trying to fix the portal to bring him back… it caused his anger to flare. For a while he had had a sort of morbid curiosity about what his family had done after learning about his disappearance, if they had mourned him. It had been a thought that had haunted him late at night, when he had been lying awake on the cold ground and yearning for home. But now, now he found out that they hadn't even _known_. That his twin had stolen that from him, stolen his right to be mourned. It stung him so badly to learn.

However, while he would never admit it, a part of him did feel the smallest bit… touched. About how his brother had spent all that time trying to bring him back. Yes, he knew that it most likely hadn't had anything to do with him, more about Stanley absolving himself of guilt, but he still found his heart lurching when he heard how far his brother went to try and find him. It was nice to know that he hadn't been completely forgotten or abandoned. Sad, that that was something that he had needed to know. That it hadn't exactly been a given.

He was pulled out of his thoughts, however, when a shout rang out from above, reminding them all that there was a bigger issue to worry about. He had been so involved in his and his brother's shared story that he had completely forgotten about the government agents above them. He felt his mind race, trying to figure out a way to get the agents to leave them be. It was the boy, however, who came up with the idea to use Fiddleford's mind erasing device to make the agents forget about them. Of course! If he just changed the frequency, amplified the range… Yes. Yes, it would work. And then he could simply tell them that he was their superior and make them leave. Perfect.

Doing as such, he watched as the agents left his home, feeding the rectangular box he had been given to a goat who was passing by. With the US government off their backs, Stanford felt a bit of relief flow through him. Now he'd be able to fix everything in peace. But, he thought as Stanley ushered the children inside, not before he spoke to his twin. They needed to speak in private, to go over what would happen now. At least his anger was under control now; they didn't need to get into a fight. Not again.

But standing there, beside his brother, looking at how time had changed them… he didn't know what to say. He saw the smoldering remains of a bridge between them and he knew that there was no possible way they could work things out. Even if, perhaps, he secretly wished they could. That they could ignore all their pain and hurt and simply be brothers again. But that time had passed. They both needed to grow up and move on.

So he told his twin how he would allow him to stay at his home for the remainder of the summer, to watch over the children, but after that he wanted his life back. He felt a small pang in his heart at the look his brother gave him, oh so similar to the one that had haunted his dreams for years. But then his brother lashed out at him, claiming that he better stay away from the children, since they were the only family he had left. Stanford had to admit that that stung, just a bit.

He watched his brother storm away, standing in his place for a few moments before he tersely turned and went down the elevator into his laboratory. It was a bit of a shock to see a vending machine where his old bookcase/hidden door had been, but he supposed that Stanley must have changed it when he had started this whole 'Mystery Shack' business. Vending machines were a bit more innocuous than a bookshelf in a gift shop, he supposed. People wouldn't accidentally bump the wrong book and find a secret lab.

Down in his underground laboratory, he looked at the remains of his portal. It was broken, now; the power of starting it up after so long caused it to pretty much destroy itself. He couldn't even feel too upset over it; he hated that portal. If it wasn't for it, he never would have gotten trapped in that stupid void, or the multiverse. He sighed as he moved towards it, intent on dismantling it completely.

He was forced to stop, however, when he saw the shifting piece of universe floating in midair, right at the center of his broken portal. Oh, no.

Stanford could feel his heart stop as he saw what could only be a tear in the universe. It was so small, but he knew that if it fell into the wrong hand, it had the potential to destroy everything he held dear. He moved closer to it cautiously to exam it. It was moving around, shifting. He could see it was getting bigger and he knew that he would need to contain it, soon.

Good thing he was an inventor. It took him maybe thirty minutes to come up with a design for a device that would completely contain the tear in the universe and it took only an hour to create it using the spare parts he kept in the bag Marie had given him all those years ago. Once done, he went up to the tear and carefully sealed it inside the small dome containment device. There. It wasn't perfect, but at least now it couldn't get bigger.

That done with, he looked at the clock that was on the wall and felt surprised to see that it was four in the morning. He had gone so long without time, he had forgotten that Earth used it. Well, that was going to be hell to get used to…

He could feel his mind slowing with exhaustion and decided that he might as well call it a night. He went up to his private room, the one only he and Fiddleford knew about. He had a small bed in there; he could sleep there for the night and see about getting his old room back in the morning. For all he knew, Stanley might have changed his room into something completely different.

Lying in bed, he found that sleep would not come easy, his mind racing. This sure was not what he had expected when the day began. He had thought he'd have to fight more monsters, not get pulled back into his home dimensions courtesy of his twin. It was weird, being back here. Like a dream. Like if he blinked, it'd all be gone and he'd be back in the multiverse.

No matter what he said to his twin, he was glad to be back. He may not like how his brother had gone about it, but it was a relief to be back on earth. He had never liked the multiverse; he had just done the best with the hand life had dealt him. Now he was home. And maybe… maybe, he could begin healing. Maybe he could mend the pieces of himself that were broken.

Because there was no doubt in his mind that he was broken. That he was not the man he once was. He hid it, and he hid it well, but at the end of the day his mind was still muddled and broken from his time in the void. From the things he had seen along his travels. He could feel the cracks in himself and they scared him sometimes. The way his anger flared, the way his emotions froze over, allowing him to hurt anyone as long as he got what he wanted… it scared him. But now that he was home, now that he was relatively safe, maybe he could mend himself. He hoped he could.

The exhaustion began eating away at him and he felt his mind begin the slow ascent into sleep.

His last thought before drifting off was of his brother's face, the hurt that had shown right as he punched him in the face.

Guess some things never changed.


	9. Chapter 9

New chapter. Everybody jump for joy. Or whatever.

So the first half of this chapter deals with Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons, so it's a bit more tame. The second half, though, follows a scene from The Life of Pines and is kind of heavy. We see more into Stanford's mentality and why he feels the way he does. Just remember while reading this that my version of Stanford has PTSD. I don't know if I mentioned it in any notes, but I do have it as a tag on AO3.

Also, I changed the summary of this story. I was looking at the old one and realized that it didn't really explain what the story was about... I'm not happy with what I changed it to, but I find it better than the old one.

And finally, I was thinking of, perhaps, writing some one shots for this universe. Where I would go into more detail of what Stanford went through in the portal, or what Stanley went through while he was alone on the road. Little stories that fit into this universe, but that would have detracted from the overlying story I was creating in The Life of Pines and The Flip Side. I wouldn't write them for a while (if ever, depending) but I wanted to know if anyone would be interested, and if you are, what you'd like to see me write about.

Anyway, I hope you like this chapter. I've noticed that while the hits and the views for this story are going up, there aren't that many new kudos or favorites. I'm hoping that y'all aren't upset with the direction I'm going, but if you are, please tell me? I don't know if I'd be able to fix it, but at least I'd know.

So yeah. Please review or comment. Thanks.

* * *

 _~~~Now you'll never see what you've done to me~~  
~~~You can take back your memories they're no good to me~~~  
~~~And here's all your lies you can't look me in the eyes~~~  
~~~With the sad, sad look that you wear so well~~~_

 _-Gives you Hell, All American Rejects_

* * *

He stared, frozen, at the sight before him. He felt as though he couldn't breathe. He knew this was a dream, that it had to be a dream, but it felt so real.

Sixty years old and horrified, Stanford could only look at the deformed and broken body of his twin brother, feeling his heart clench as he did. He wanted to shout, he wanted to scream, but it was like he was frozen. He could hear laughter, the ringing laughter that he had only ever heard distantly, while trapped as a prisoner inside his own mind. He shuddered as he realized that it was coming from his own mouth. He looked at his hands and saw red blood and felt like puking. His eyes returned to Stanley's body and he tried to apologize. But he couldn't. He wasn't in control.

When he finally awoke, he clenched his fists and did his best to not cry. It was not the first time he had had that dream over the years, but it felt so much more real now. Especially now that he was finally home and that dream had the potential to become reality.

He allowed himself a few moments to gather his thoughts and to catch his breath before getting up and getting dressed for the day, deciding not to dwell on his dream. He had stopped paying attention to them years ago, so he would be damned if he started again now.

He had been home for a couple of days now. It still felt weird to think that. To know that he didn't have to fight anymore, that he didn't have to scramble each morning just to get enough to eat. That he was finally safe. Or as safe as he could be, at least. It was a weird sensation.

Over those past two days, he had spent most of his time in his laboratory, working on dismantling the portal. Both his original one and the portable one he had gotten as a reward. It wouldn't do for either of them to fall into the hands of Bill, after all. He didn't even feel any regret, destroying the two. They had caused so much grief and misery in his life. It felt almost like a relief to destroy them.

He had also done as his brother had requested and stayed away from his great niece and nephew. The boy, Dipper, had been following him whenever he went upstairs to get food or water, and it was hard to turn him away. After all, he was family. But Stanford also understood why Stanley wanted him to discourage Dipper. The supernatural was dangerous, especially for a boy so young. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt him.

As for the girl, Mabel, he hadn't seen all that much her. He noticed that she tended to stay closer to Stanley, whenever he wandered into the same room as them. He wondered if it was subconscious or not. During those few times when they were together, she mostly just stared at him, like she was trying to understand him. Oh, of course she would smile at him and joke around as well, but he could see the wheels turning in her mind, digesting his appearance. It reminded him of Stanley, how shrewd she was, covered up by a happy-go-lucky persona. He wondered what she thought of him. If he would meet up to the expectations she was creating in her mind.

He had to admit that they both interested him greatly, that he wanted to know more about them. To know what they were like. But he also didn't want to put them in danger. It was a troublesome position to be stuck in.

Oh well, he thought as he went over to his lab to get to work. Perhaps once everything was over with, once the world was back to normal, he'd be able to talk to them as their great uncle. Until then, he'd just have to settle on puzzling over them from afar. He put them out of his mind as he started dismantling the portal, the complexity of the work requiring his full attention.

It was around ten in the morning (a fact his new watch/hidden door opener helpfully provided) that he decided to take a break from the portal and work on clearing up the main console area. Stanley had not been the most diligent of minders, allowing the space to get cluttered up and letting all of his research projects get crushed or misshapen. While it may have been years since he had created these, he did not appreciate his hard work getting ruined.

It was while he was cleaning up around an old bookcase that he saw the creature. A Cycloptopus, if he recalled correctly. At the moment, it was sleeping, clearly not much of a threat. However, Stanford knew that if he allowed it to roam free, it had the potential to cause great destruction. So, slowly going over to the cubbies where he kept his inventions, he hoped that Stanley had never gotten rid of his electric gloves. To his luck, he saw that all the inventions he had ever created were in there, his brother apparently never giving them away or selling them. Well, good. He quickly found the electric gloves and slowly creeped back over to the slumbering creature.

He had been about a foot away when the Cycloptopus jumped up and pushed away from him, quickly scurrying away, over to the elevator and up the elevator shaft. Damn; now he would have to chase it. Hopefully the children weren't in the, ugh, 'gift shop.' The Cycloptopus was dangerous and could eat a human in one bite if it wanted.

Racing into the elevator, he waited impatiently for the thing to go up. Once it finally arrived, he walked cautiously up the stairs, looking around for the creature. Where was it…? He let out a small yelp when the creature attached itself to his arm, attempting to get at him. Knowing that if he kept it in this enclosed space, it might potentially kill him, he opened up the hidden doorway and exited, ignoring the children as they screamed. He yelled at them to get down as he punched the creature in the face, causing it to let go of him and scurry around on the ground. Perfect.

He chased the Cycloptopus around the room, needing to corner it so he could use his electric gloves. He ignored Dipper's question of what it was, as well as Mabel's odd request of keeping it, focused on trying to capture the creature as soon as possible. He managed to chase it into the corner, where he waited for it to attack before shocking it. Haha, got it!

He carried it gingerly back to the doorway of his lab, doing as his brother asked and getting it out of the 'gift shop'. He only stopped when Dipper ran up to him, asking to help him with the Cycloptopus. It was with a tinge of regret that he turned the boy down, as harshly as he could so that the child would understand, before exiting back into the secret lab. There, now the boy would stop asking about the supernatural. But instead of heading down the stairs to the elevator right away, he stood there, listening for a moment while Mabel comforted her twin. It made him smile a bittersweet smile as he remembered a time his own twin used to comfort him after someone crushed his dreams. The smile died, though, when he heard said twin call him a dangerous know-it-all, and that his niece and nephew should stay away from him.

Was that really what Stanley thought of him? It made his heart clench to hear, but he tried to ignore it as he marched stiffly down the steps to the elevator, done with his moment of eavesdropping. So what his brother thought he was a dangerous know-it-all? That he thought that he would let the children get hurt? He hated his brother, anyway, so why should it hurt that he thought that way about him? It didn't. At all.

Because it didn't matter that part of him missed his twin. That even though in the multiverse he had convinced himself that he hated Stanley, he actually didn't. That he had forced himself to believe his hatred and anger was absolute in order to stop the gnawing pangs of loss and pain he had sometimes felt. That he did know what love was, and that he did still love Stanley with all of his heart. Because none of it mattered. He and Stanley were broken. There was too much bad blood between them. No amount of possible love, or fruitless wishes, could ever change it. So he would convince himself of his absolute hatred, of his rightful anger, because it was easier than admitting that part of him still loved Stanley, and that that part was so hurt by his twin's actions. Anger was easier to deal with than pain. It always had been.

Back in the lab, Stanford got to work containing the Cycloptopus, putting his emotions away as he focused solely on the work. Once done with containing it, he went back to work on dismantling the portal. Anything to keep his mind occupied.

It was around midafternoon that he heard a crash from the main area of his lab. When he went to investigate, he found Dipper lying on the ground, right next to the now free Cycloptopus, the glass jar he had contained it in shattered around it. He had just begun a diatribe about how dangerous his line of work was, when he spotted the thirty-eight sided die. Seeing it made him stop in mid-sentence, suddenly remembering a time when he was young, when Dungeons, Dungeons, & More Dungeons was the most mind stimulating game in the whole world. He had spent hours forcing his brothers to play with him, Shermy enjoying it only marginally more than Stanley had (while Stanley had always tried his best, he never quite got the point of the game. Shermy at least was able to play it with him, when his little brother was feeling charitable enough to humor him that was.)

Upon learning that his great nephew was also a fan of DD&MoreD, and that he had had trouble getting anyone to play with him, he knew he had to stop his work and play with the boy. It had been so long, so long since he had done something fun… since he had allowed himself the luxury of downtime… he couldn't let the opportunity pass. Plus, he knew what it was like, having no one to play the game with. He couldn't let his great nephew feel that sting of loneliness that he had felt as a child. Anyway, it wasn't like he was teaching the boy anything dangerous... They were just going to play a game. Stanley couldn't have any problems with that, could he?

And so they played. Hours passed with just the two of them creating graphs and tossing their dice. He had to admit that it was the most fun he had had in years, not that that was saying much. But his great nephew was great company, once the boy had stopped looking at him like he was the greatest thing since sliced bread. Dipper was very intelligent; not quite as intelligent as he had been as a child, but Stanford could see the boy's potential. It made talking to him interesting and fun. Stanford had always loved children, getting along wonderfully with his little nephew whenever Shermy had visited him at college or while in Gravity Falls. It was just a bonus that Dipper was fun to spend time with. He even found himself showing the child the infinity sided die he had gotten as a reward after one of his battles, trusting the boy wouldn't do anything stupid with the information.

When night fell, the two of them went upstairs to get dinner, his brother looking at them suspiciously, but saying nothing as he and Dipper spoke, making plans to play again in the morning. After dinner, he went back down to his lab while Dipper went up to his and his sister's room in the attic. It had honestly surprised him that Stanley hadn't given the twins his old room. It would have made sense. Instead, he had given it to the gopher-esque man as a break room. Well, he had never claimed to understand his brother's thought process. Though, he really should see to getting his old room back… The bed in the lab really was not comfortable enough to sleep in full time.

He spent the next several hours dismantling the portal, going until he had nearly crashed. It was only when exhaustion forced him to stop that he got up and went to bed, dreading the nightmares that would await him. While he was used to nightmares by now, they still were not pleasant. He grew tired of watching his brother and other various loved ones die over and over, usually by his own hand. Or else dreaming of the void and all the other horrors he had witnessed over the past thirty years.

But sleep eventually found him, his nightmares waking him only four hours later, drenched in cold sweat. He got up, shaking somewhat from the aftershock, and headed upstairs to quickly brew himself some coffee. He would need it to get through the rest of the day. He sighed happily as he took a sip of the bitter, boiling hot liquid, the taste so familiar yet so foreign at the same time. He had missed coffee while trapped in the multiverse.

Once the pot was empty and he had grabbed a piece of toast, he headed back downstairs, waiting for Dipper to wake up and come back. As he waited, he cleaned his work space some more, wanting everything to be the way it had been before.

When Dipper showed up, Stanford had greeted the boy enthusiastically and the two began playing right away. He was impressed by the graph his great nephew had put together, telling the boy as such. Dipper grew bright red, and grinned a wide grin as he rambled about how he spent hours the night before creating it. Stanford smiled back at the boy and didn't tell him the mistake he had made near the end of his dungeon. The child didn't need to know, and it wasn't all that major.

When their game got too big for the small basement lab, they moved things upstairs (since he wasn't about to take the boy into the portal room) and they started putting everything up on the walls and across the floor, their excitement great as they played on.

Of course, Stanley wasn't very impressed… well, it wasn't his fault that his twin had stolen his house, was it? But then they got into a mini argument over it, and he felt his frustration rising at his brother's stubbornness. This. This was why he had no hope of fixing things with his twin. The man was impossible.

Not to mention he never listened and he never thought things through, Stanford thought bitterly as he watched Stanley throw his infinity sided die on the ground, causing the wizard Probabilitor to show up and kidnap him and Dipper, dead set on eating their brains. Just great.

Just as all hope seemed lost, no way out of this sticky situation (and he was kicking himself for not bringing his ray gun. Yeah right he was safe on Earth) their siblings came in, along with another child. Stanford couldn't even find that much relief in that, though, especially once they found out the only way they could get rescued was if Stanley and Mabel played DD&MoreD. Remembering how dismal his twin used to be at the game (which really was a shock, Stanley had always had an immense imagination and decent brains, if he had just bothered to learn the rules his brother would have been amazing at it), he began to resign himself to get eaten by a fictional wizard.

Yet, to his surprise, Mabel and Stanley actually… did pretty well. Considering. Centaurtaurs, and bouncy shoes were not typically what people played the game with, but he had to admit they had their effectiveness. And when his brother, against all odds, got a perfect 38 and freed them from their real life DD&MoreD game, he even felt just a bit of pride in his twin. But only a little.

Then, when Stanley allowed Dipper to spend more time with him, Stanford felt his heart swell. He really enjoyed his great nephew's company. He was glad his brother would allow it. While he could have always gone against his brother's wishes had his brother forbidden it, he didn't really want to. After all, the children were in his care. Stanford would respect his brother's right to keep them safe, however he saw fit, even if he didn't agree.

Once home, he went downstairs and finished dismantling the portal, leaving his family to watch that ridiculous show about a talking detective duck. He sighed as he saw the pieces of his former life's work around him, feeling nothing but relief that that horrible machine was gone. It had caused so much pain and misery. He was finally free of it. Of course there were other problems to deal with, such as fixing the tear in the universe, but for now he'd just feel glad that the portal was gone.

Dipper came down to visit him a few hours after that at his request. Stanford had been thinking the previous night, and he had decided to trust Dipper with the information about the tear in the universe. The boy seemed responsible; he doubted that Dipper would betray him or sell him out. He had also decided to keep the infinity sided die somewhere that they could use it, if need be. Who knew what they might come across in the following weeks?

The day ended with Stanford inviting Dipper back to his lab whenever the boy wanted, even going so far as to offer him the chance to learn more about the secrets of Gravity Falls. The small ones, of course. The non-life threatening ones. Nothing dangerous. Dipper seemed ecstatic about it, which made his heart lift. He was growing fond of the boy quickly, the child reminding him of himself at that age, with just enough of his brother mixed in to add a good blend of their varied personalities.

Life had changed drastically for him, over the past week. Going from fighting for his life, to being a great uncle to two vastly different children, as well as trying to fix the mistakes of his brother and dealing with all of those issues, was a bit exhausting.

But he'd get through it.

And if sometimes he had trouble remembering where he was and that he was safe now, well, he was sure that would go away in time.

He hoped.

* * *

He stormed into his room down in the laboratory, his mind racing and his heart clenched tight.

Sixty years old and hurting, Stanford sat at his desk and ran his fingers through his messy hair, his breathing heavy as memories from his youth assaulted him. He gritted his teeth as he tried his hardest to make them all stop, feeling as though he couldn't breathe from the pain. He hunched over, eventually falling from the chair onto the floor, shaking with emotion.

It was so stupid, even, what had triggered this. A sandwich; a stupid, simple sandwich had forced him into this position. Had made it feel like his heart was going to explode from pain and pent up anger.

And the day had been going so well… Dipper had taken him up on his offer to learn about some of the secrets of Gravity Falls and he had spent most of the morning going through the journals and explaining how and where he had found certain beings. He had drawn graphs and maps to show the boy exactly what he had learned.

It had been wonderful to share his research with Dipper. Back when he had created the journals, he had had no one to share his findings with, Fiddleford never really caring much for the supernatural. And as for Bill, well, the less said about him the better. But now he had Dipper, who was enraptured by his every word, who contributed his own stories and anecdotes about what he had seen. It was everything he had ever wanted as a child; someone who listened and cared about the things he had found interesting.

But then his brother had to ruin it, like he ruined everything. Why, _why_ had he decided to make lunch that day? Over the past several days, ever since the 'Mystery Shack' had reopened, Stanford had noticed his brother tended to not make lunch. He seemed to prefer to let the children forage for themselves while he worked. So what had made this day any different than any other?

But he had accepted it. After all, he did eat with them for dinner each day, so having lunch wouldn't make that much of a difference, right? Even if the dinners tended to be tense where he and his brother were concerned, Stanford enjoyed spending time with the children. Their thoughts were refreshing and interesting. It was also fascinating to watch them interact, so much like him and Stanley as children, yet so different.

So he had followed Stanley upstairs, just a bit hesitatingly, tense and taut as he shared the elevator with his twin. It was awkward, being around his twin. Not knowing if he loved him or not. Not knowing how to contain the anger that festered inside of him still. He had shot out of the elevator as soon as he had the chance, needing to be away from the tense atmosphere. He hope that Dipper hadn't picked up on it; he didn't want to bring the boy into his issues with his brother.

Once in the kitchen slash dining room, he took his usual seat across from where the twins would sit, giving a polite greeting to Mabel. While he had not spent much time with the girl, he enjoyed being around her when he had the opportunity. She was bracing to witness. He tensed slightly when his brother took his usual seat beside him, feeling his jaw clench as he tried not to feel that awkwardness. It was only when his twin had nudged him and gestured over to a plate full of sandwiches that he remembered why he was there and took one.

He hadn't expected it to taste the way it had. It had surprised him, leaving him to stare at the sandwich in shock. It tasted just like…

"These are moms, aren't they?" He had asked, his heart fluttering as the taste burst across his tongue. It had been decades since he had had a sandwich like this. He took another bite and couldn't help the way his heart lurched as he chewed.

"Good, huh? Ma taught me how to make 'em, several years back. Said she remembered how much we liked 'em as kids and wanted me ta know how ta make 'em." His brother had explained. Stanford had felt a smile form as he remembered their mother making them sandwiches as children, whenever she wasn't 'working' or doing whatever else she did that was more important than her children.

The smile had died a second later though, when he remembered the fact she had died never knowing that he had been gone.

He had asked Dipper earlier, casually so the boy didn't see how anxious he actually was, what had happened to his family and had been informed that they all were dead, outside of his nephew. That his father had died in '89 of a heart attack and his mother had died in '93 of respiratory failure. Shermy, his little brother, had died alongside his wife in a car accident in '08. Learning that had hurt, but he made sure to keep his reaction small, so that Dipper wouldn't notice. He thought the boy might have noticed that something was off, considering the way the boy had attempted to hug him, but he had made sure to wave his concern off and hide his inner pain.

At that moment, though, as he stared at the sandwich that tasted so similar to his mother's own… then that pain came back tenfold, alongside a deep anger. He had to get out of there. He felt like he was going to explode, his heart clenched tightly and his lungs refusing to work properly.

"I just remembered that I'm not particularly hungry. Now, if you all will excuse me, I'll be down in the lab. Dipper, feel free to join me whenever you're ready." He bit out, trying to be polite but feeling like he was failing. He could see a devastated look on his twin's face, but he didn't care. He needed to _get out._

Now he was hunched over in his lab, shuddering as emotions flowed through him. Oh, God…

For the past week he had been home, he hadn't thought about what he had missed while he was in the multiverse. He couldn't. Anytime he even tried, it was like someone had taken his heart and squeezed. It was too painful. But now, now he couldn't help it. Memories of his childhood flooded his mind, his happiest experiences turned bittersweet with the knowledge of what he had missed. What he had lost.

He hadn't gotten to spend those years with them. He hadn't been able to watch as little nephew got married and had his own babies. He hadn't been able to watch his little brother go grey. He hadn't been able to be there for his parents as they aged.

But most of all, he hadn't been there, at his parent's or his little brother's funeral. He hadn't had traditional year to mourn them. He hadn't been able to come to terms with it. And it _hurt_. God, it hurt so badly.

He wanted to yell, to scream, to hit something. He wanted to destroy. But he didn't. He just sat on the ground, taking deep, uneven breaths as he did his best to suppress the tears that flowed down his face.

They had never even known… they had never known that he was gone. They never thought of him in sorrow, because they didn't even _know he was gone._ What if he had never come back? What if he _had_ died in the multiverse? No one ever would have known. He would have gone unmourned, forgotten. Replaced. And all because his brother had stolen his identity. Stolen his life.

As he sat on the ground, his head between his thighs as he breathed raggedly, he couldn't help the intense rage he felt towards his twin. It had been his fault. He had stolen it from him, he had taken away his right to be mourned and missed. He had taken his life away from him! He had taken _everything_ from him! And he didn't even care! He didn't apologize or notice that it was wrong! Stanford shuddered as his anger flooded through his veins, a familiar friend.

It was a while before Stanford was able to get up, still shaking but no longer weak with grief and hatred. He walked over to his lab and got started building something. Anything. He needed to distract himself, needed to contain himself. He hoped that Dipper didn't come back that day; he didn't think he could put his mask back on so quickly after having it shatter like that.

When his watch beeped at six, Stanford put his tools away and went upstairs to eat dinner with the rest of his remaining family. He smiled and he acted like that afternoon had not happened, even though his heart was still trapped in an iron grip. He made sure to not look at his twin once, which was a challenge seeing as how they were sat right next to one another, but he managed. He couldn't stand seeing the man and acknowledging what he had done. What he had taken from him.

To think, he had thought that he had missed his twin, that he loved him. Ha! At that moment, all he could feel was hatred, pure and unadulterated. He refused to acknowledge the fact that the only reason he felt the pure hatred was to mask the pain and hurt he had felt. It was so much easier to hate than to acknowledge that pain. Than to try and work everything through.

And when he woke the next morning, still shaking from seeing his twin's dead body, he tried to convince himself that he didn't care.

It was just easier.


	10. Chapter 10

Bit late, but here's the new chapter.

So it's the climax! Ford's perspective of the fight from The Life of Pines. The only thing I'm gonna say about this chapter is: Remember that Ford has PTSD. If you don't know what PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) is, or if you won't know what it entails, I recommend you look it up. Also, Ford kind of changes his view on things quickly, which is a bit unrealistic, but I needed to do this to fit with my timeline. So I do understand it's a bit abrupt, but hopefully not too much.

I'm glad some of you would read the one-shots if I wrote them. I'm currently working on a piece that deals with Stanley during the years he was technically homeless, so that should hopefully be done soon. I won't post anything until at least a week after this story is over, though.

And... I think that's it. Thanks for all the reviews last chapter! They all meant a lot to me.

Oh! And I really recommend that you listen to today's song, since I think it really captures Ford in the end of this chapter. Plus, it's one of my favorite songs.

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

 _~~~It's not what you_ _thought~~~  
_ _~~~When you first began it~~~  
_ _~~~You got what you want~~~  
_ _~~~Now you can hardly stand it, though~~~  
_ _~~~By now you know~~~  
_ _~~~It's not going to stop~~~  
_ _~~~Till you wise up~~~_

 _-Wise Up, Aimee Mann_

* * *

He stared at the wall, his hands clenched against the table and his back taut, anger flowing through his veins.

Sixty years old and furious, Stanford could feel his frustration bubble over as his twin voiced his complaints, could feel his anger reaching a peak. He was past concealing now; if he didn't let this rage out, it was going to eat him from the inside. He needed an outlet for all the anger and fear he felt, and it looked like his brother was going to be the target.

For the first couple of days after he had had his minor meltdown over a sandwich, he had done his best to keep it all under wraps. Yes, he was angry at his twin, yes he felt like he was getting torn in two with grief and pain, but he had bigger things to worry about. He also hadn't wanted to get into a fight with his twin, recalling bitterly what had happened the last time they had fought. And while he knew that the portal was gone, he still hadn't wanted to do anything that reminded him of that day. Also, part of him- the part that was rational and was not blind with anger and pain- had not wanted to hurt his twin.

So he had had to settle with just a smidgen of revenge, when he had given Dipper that mind control tie; he distinctly remembered how much his brother hated being controlled or talked over when they were children. It would serve him right, for everything he had done, to have his precious control taken away. And besides, he knew his brother never would have won the election on his own. The man had always been too much, always speaking his mind. So he was even doing his brother a favor, if you thought about it. Either way, it had calmed the rage just a little bit.

But that hadn't lasted long. Two days after his brother's failed campaign, Bill had shown up in his dream. Seeing his old friend, being reminded of his failures... It was too much. Everything he had tried to keep inside had come out, his fear and his general anger at the world nearly swallowing him, kept only at bay when he was around his great niece and nephew. He had done his best to keep the demon out of the shack, but there was still the possibility that Bill could get help from someone else, could find a way around his defenses. It had caused him to regain part of his old paranoia, constantly on guard. He hid it, from both his brother and the children, but it was constantly bubbling up inside him.

It had even caused him to mess up the experiment he had been working on to fix everything. His mind had been so distracted by his worry and his anger and his fear that he had accidentally attached the wrong wire to the wrong battery, causing it to explode and emit a thick plume of smoke, a rookie mistake. He had exited the basement lab as quickly as he could, the smoke making his lungs burn, and could feel everything inside of him churning and simmering. The anger, and the pain, and the fear, and the frustration; just all of it.

And when his twin had started yelling at him, saying how he had chased away his customers, the careful control he had had on his emotions had snapped. He had turned from his brother, facing the wall and gripping onto the living room table, trying to regain his control, but ultimately failing.

Now all he could feel was a mixture of anger, rage, hatred, panic, fear, and hurt. They mixed inside him and made him shake with the intensity. He heard his brother trail off in his diatribe and knew that it was his turn to speak. He felt himself bare his teeth at the table as he thought of everything he wished to say to his twin. He would start polite; he would give his brother the chance to make things better. And if it didn't work… well, then he'd start letting his anger out. Maybe. He didn't want to expose himself, but he would if his brother continued to make an ass of himself.

"It is not my fault that my experiment did not work. I was trying to fix the mess that _you_ made. Perhaps if you don't want my work to interrupt yours, you shouldn't have it in my house." He bit out, his voice low and taut with his very barely contained anger. He waited for his brother to speak, part of him hoping that the man would fuel his fire, part of him hoping he would extinguish it. It was in his brother's hands, now.

"Look, whatever, okay? Just don't do it again. I still have to pay for this house, so try not to ruin my work, alright? We're runnin' out of money, what with all the repairs, and we can't afford to lose anymore."

Oh. Oh, that was so the wrong thing to say. Stanford gnashed his teeth together, his back so tense he could feel his tendons crying from the pain.

"Well, perhaps if you hadn't taken over my name, I could find a way to get us money without scamming people." He shot back, removing his hands from the table and standing straight, his back still tense. He could feel the poisonous anger inside his heart, begging to be let out. He wanted to let it, but he couldn't. Not yet. Not now.

"Well, sorry. I had been trying to bring you back from wherever the hell you were, I wasn't quite worried about the consequences using your name would cause. We already agreed that once the summer was over, you get your name back, so no harm no foul, alright?"

No harm no foul? No harm no foul?! Oh dear brother, it was all harm, all foul. Stolen identity wasn't a small thing that he could forget just like that. He wanted to scream, but he forced himself to hold back. He was still struggling with the anger, trying to contain it even as it screamed for its release. He didn't want to lose control. He could feel his control slipping, and the part that was still rational was scared at what would happen when it was gone completely.

"No. Not 'no harm no foul.' You stole my name- my life- with little to no thought. But, then again, you never do think about consequences, do you, Stanley? For anything. If you did, you never would have opened that Portal again, even after I had written that it would cause problems, instead leaving me to clean up after you, like always." He fumed, allowing a small part of his bitterness escape. He tried to get off the subject of his name, not wanting to get into the messiness that caused inside him, instead switching to a safer topic; the portal. He glared at the wall as he awaited his twin's response, hearing the man shift behind him.

"Excuse me? I would think you should be just a bit more grateful, Poindexter, seeing as how I opened that portal to _save you_ , if you would care to recall. Ya know, ya wouldn't even be back here if it wasn't for me."

His brother still thought he should be grateful for opening the portal? He had stated, explicitly, for him to _not_ do it. That it would just bring trouble. And yet he had, and apparently still expected gratitude. He scowled as he finally turned to face his twin, standing up straight to stare down at him, seeing the annoyance on the man's face. His scowl deepened at the sight.

"Why on earth would I be grateful? You shouldn't have opened the portal. I put, specifically, that it would only bring about trouble, yet you ignored me, like you always do! You want to know _why_ I'm not grateful? Because you did nothing that I should be grateful for! You're the reason I was in that other dimension in the first place, and you're the one who has potentially destroyed the universe!" He yelled, glaring at his brother as he tried to keep his breathing even. He could feel the beginnings of hurt forming in his heart, and he tried his best to stomp it out. He didn't want his pain to get mixed in with this. He was angry, goddammit, not upset.

He watched as Stanley's jaw dropped, his eyes filling with indignant anger.

"Nothing you should be grateful for?!" His brother exclaimed incredulously. "I spent thirty years trying to fix that portal to bring you back, you jerk! I spent night after night in that dingy lab, doing everything I could to bring you home! I didn't care if it would bring the end of the world, just as long as you were back!"

Stanford threw his hands up into the air at his brother's words and began to pace. His anger was still bubbling and he was trying so, so hard to keep it reined in. But it refused, coming out in barbed words that he had kept inside for years, ever since their childhood, even.

"And that is exactly the problem, Stanley! You only ever care about yourself, you never think of the consequences. You always were like that. You never cared if your actions hurt someone else, just as long as you got what _you_ wanted. You never cared for anyone, anyone but yourself! It's why you took my name; took my life!" He shouted, his hands shaking as he let the words loose. For years he had kept that inside, wanting to be a good brother. Wanting to not hurt his brother's feelings. But it hadn't just gone away; instead, it had gathered inside him, the kindling for the inferno that now raged in his heart. He could see the pain his words caused in his brother, alongside the anger, but he found he just didn't care. Let him hurt. It served him right.

"You have a lotta nerve, sayin' that ta me. I never cared about anyone but myself? What about that time we were ten and I gave up going to that sleep-away camp I had really wanted to go to for years, since you were sick with the mumps? And how I stayed beside you every second, catching the disease myself, trying to keep you company? Or how about all the times I listened ta ya prattle on about some stupid, smarty-pants inventor, even though I had no idea what you were talkin' about half the time? Or when I gave up thirty years of my life, trying to bring you home?! Don't ya dare say I never cared about anyone but myself."

Seriously?! He thought that all that counted as caring about someone else?! Well, perhaps, but it wasn't nearly enough. Not after everything he had put him through. Stanford scoffed as he strode forward, getting close to his brother, close enough that he could see each individual wrinkle on the man's face. He could feel the pain filling his heart again, but he found he couldn't stomp it down this time. It was just too intense.

"That wasn't for me; that was for you! You only brought me back to satisfy your guilt. And while you may have done a few things for me over the years, ultimately it has all been about you! It was your dream to travel the world in a sailboat, Stanley, not mine! And, if you had truly cared about me, you never would have sabotaged my chance of getting into West Coast Tech! You would have been happy for me, instead of feeling pity for yourself!" He shouted, poking his brother in the chest for emphasis. He could feel his bitterness rising as he stared at his twin's face. His brother had taken everything from him, and he didn't even notice it. He didn't even care. Stanford felt like crying as he stared, but he refused to. He wasn't a child; he wouldn't allow his brother to see his pain. He couldn't.

"That, again?! It was a mistake! I was a kid! You were going to leave and I was angry! I never meant to mess up your stupid project! But honestly?! I'm glad I did! I'm glad I ruined your life, like you ruined mine!" His brother shouted back, his teeth barred as he shoved him away. Stanford stumbled backwards a bit, catching himself against the edge of the table. Oh, that was it. He was done trying to contain his anger. Pain and hurt rising inside him, he seethed as he glared daggers at his twin.

"You ruined your own life, Stanley. You were so hung up over your own needs and woes, you never noticed that you were the one to cause most of them. _You_ sabotaged your life, not me." He spat, wanting to make his brother take responsibility for once. He had never done anything to his brother, except love him wholeheartedly! It was Stanley that had ruined things, taking his chance to go to college away from him! All he had ever wanted was his brother's support; why couldn't his brother have just given it?! Why couldn't his brother have just loved him?! He watched, shaking, as his brother let out a bitter laugh and clenched his fist, fury, sadness, and pain contorting his face bitterly.

"You _abandoned_ me, Stanford! You turned your back on me and left me behind! I make one mistake and a lifetime of friendship gets erased?! Do you even care how difficult it was for me, after dad threw me out? I lived in my car more often than not! I was constantly on the brink of starvation! All the while, you were at college, getting awards and grants and other various things. You never bothered to look for me, you never bothered to find out if I was okay. So what you didn't go to your fancy college? At least you didn't have to spend several months in a cramped Mexican jailhouse! You forgot about me, so how can you say that I sabotaged my own life?! How can you say that I only ever cared about myself, when _you_ were the one to leave me behind over a stupid mistake?!"

Stanford could feel his anger reaching its peak, so intense that it passed by the raging inferno, settling into a cold and intense fury. His brother would never learn. He would always blame him for everything bad in his life. While there was some part of him, blocked out by the rage and pain, that felt sorrow for his twin, the majority of him was just hurting. And he wanted his twin to hurt just as badly. So, he spoke the words that he had contained for thirty years. The final, most bitter piece of anger he had. The thing that had fueled the absolute hatred of his twin he had felt while in the multiverse, the thing that was his brother's worst offense.

"You pushed me into that portal. Because of you I spent thirty years lost between dimensions, wandering and encountering horrors you couldn't even imagine. You want to insist that _I_ ruined _your_ life? Well you ruined mine. _Twice_." He hissed, words like ice. It felt good, to let them out. So long they had resided in his heart, a piece of jagged glass stabbing at him. It was nice to finally get rid of them.

He hadn't expected, though, for his brother get a look of such intense sorrow and pain. To look as though Stanford had physically struck him. He could feel his anger, previously so fierce and bitter, pause at the sight, reality beginning to pour in. With the haze of anger gone, all he had left in his heart was confusion, alongside his pain and hurt, and he briefly wondered what he had just done. His eyebrows scrunched up as he took in his brother's expression.

Stanford watched, confused, as his brother's face crumbled further, shattering before his eyes. He could feel his heart clenching as the man deflated, hunching in on himself. Wait... This... This wasn't what he had wanted. No... He didn't want... He didn't want his brother to _give up_. No... He felt his heart twist as he looked at his brother, defeated. He hadn't... But... Stanley...

"Yeah. But I did my best to get you back. You want to know why I refused to give up fixin' that machine, even though I knew it would bring about 'disaster'? That's why. Because you were lost, and I couldn't stand the idea of you lost and in pain. You're my brother. And no matter how much you may hate me, I always loved you. So if you want to blame me for all the things you're blamin' me for, then I can't stop you. But don't you dare think, even for a second, that I only ever cared for myself. Because I didn't."

Stanford could only watch, heart and mind numb, as his brother gave him one last glance before marching out of the room. He stayed, frozen in his place for several minutes, trying and failing to understand what had just happened. Finally, he managed to unglue himself from his position and left the room, noticing only absently that the twins were staring at him wide eyed when he turned the corner. He didn't look at them. He didn't dare. He could feel their eyes burning holes into his back as he walked stiffly away. He thought it felt like accusation. Like they were judging him. He wondered if they were right to do so. Probably.

Once down in his lab, he went over to the main area and collapsed into his chair, his mind jumbled and confused as he tried to sort out what had just happened.

He had gotten into a fight with his brother. He had screamed terrible things at his brother. His brother had screamed terrible things back at him. He had watched as his brother deflated, looking so broken that it made him remember a time when the last thing he had ever wanted was to break his brother. He wondered, when had that changed? When had he grown so bitter that he had felt the distinct urge to break the man that was once his best friend?

It was no excuse, saying that his brother ruined his life. He saw that now. He was doing the exact same thing that Stanley had always done, refusing to take the blame on himself. After all, had he never created the portal, his brother never would have pushed him inside it. Had he not left his brother behind, his brother never would have grown so angry. Had he just spoken to his brother, had he seen the warning signs, his brother never would have destroyed his project. Had he just _noticed_ , maybe none of this would have happened. But he hadn't.

Now, that wasn't to say the blame lied solely with him. It was a two way street, after all. His brother could have spoken to him at any time. He could have expressed his hurt at him leaving for college. He could have made an effort to show his emotions, instead of letting them build up for years.

They were both to blame, and Stanford saw that now. He had always seen it, he had just found it so much easier to rely on his anger against his brother. To let it fuel him. But now, here he was, burned down to ashes. His rage had grown too high and now everything was singed.

He thought, briefly, on why he had exploded today. Because it wasn't just his anger at his brother, he knew that. Perhaps... Perhaps it had been because, for years while he had been in the multiverse, he had kept everything bottled inside. Whenever he had needed an outlet for his inner pain, he had went out and fought. He never dwelled on the emotions. He never thought through the source of his pain. He just bottled it up and let it fester like a diseased wound, infecting his heart in the process. He had never even realized just how numb he had become.

But he couldn't do that anymore. He couldn't rely on anger, on rage, to cover up his faults and his hurts. He couldn't allow himself to become so twisted that he actually wanted to destroy the one person he loved so dearly. The one person still alive that meant the world to him. The one person who truly _mattered_. He couldn't let himself destroy just because he felt like he was destroyed inside. He couldn't. Even thinking it hurt him, thinking of that shattered look on his twin's face… He thought that he would rather die than ever, _ever_ see that look again.

So, sitting there on that chair, he decided that he would work through his issues. That he would write down every hurt, every grievance he had and would try his best to resolve them. He wouldn't allow this to fester inside of him any longer. He couldn't. It would be hard; he had never liked dealing with emotions, finding them messy and confusing. But what else could he do to make sure he never hurt the one he loved again? How else could he mend himself, unless he did things that he found unpleasant?

And maybe, one day, he could talk things over with his brother. He knew that he wouldn't be able to anytime soon, not while the hurt of this fight was still fresh in their minds. But someday, after everything was over, they could speak and fix their issues. Once the world was set back to normal.

Things were bad now. But he would make them better.

Somehow.


	11. Chapter 11

Kinda late tonight. Sorry. I had to do a project on President Theodore Roosevelt for school and it took a while.

I'm not that happy with this chapter but I can't do anything else to fix it. I'm so burned out it's not funny. I hope you all like it; I don't. Whatever. I go over Stanford's perspective of their reconciliation in this chapter.

Thanks for all the reviews yesterday. They mean a lot to me. I don't tend to like my own writing, so to know that at least a few other people do is reassuring that I'm not completely failing.

I wanted to talk about more here, but I honestly can't think right now. I'm just so tired and worn down.

Please remember to review/comment.

Enjoy.

* * *

 _~~~I've shared my life with you, brother~~~  
~~~Since I recall, you've been my friend~~~_

~~~Don't turn away, don't tell me that we're not the same~~~  
~~~We face the fire together, brothers 'til the end~~~

 _-Brother, Lord Huron_

* * *

Trying to fix yourself was difficult, but he knew that he would eventually be able to do it.

Sixty years old and feeling calm, Stanford skillfully told the children about the adventures he had had when he had first arrived at Gravity Falls. He waved his hands, modulated the volume of his voice, and did his best to imitate the guttural roars of beasts he had encountered, immersing the children into his tale.

He hadn't meant to tell them about his adventures, but Dipper had asked him while he had been upstairs, getting himself something to drink. Mabel had overheard and had joined in, begging to hear some of his stories, and he found that he couldn't say no to the two of them. He also found that he actually kind of enjoyed it, sharing his experiences. It kept his mind off of his fluctuating emotions.

The past several days, since that fight with his twin, had been hell on him. For the first day, he had been down in his lab, writing out every hurt and grievance he had experienced over his life. It had been horrible, and he had wanted to stop so many times, but he hadn't. Even as his hands shook, even as he felt like crying or screaming, he wrote everything down. After all, he recalled reading somewhere that listing everything out helped people sometimes. That it made them understand their emotions better, or something like that. It had taken him nearly two hours to complete his list, with all the stopping and starting he had done, but he was sure that it would be worth it. Hopefully.

Once he had finished, he read over the list. It was pretty long, starting with his feelings of inadequacy as a child, and ending with the pain of knowing the majority of his family had died not knowing he was gone. He had noticed that a lot of his earlier issues had to do with his twin, though that hadn't surprised him all that much. While he knew he loved the man (yes, he knew he did, he always had), he still had a lot of bitterness towards his brother, rightfully so. He just had to make sure he never exploded again… He never wanted to hurt his twin ever again. He never wanted to be the cause of Lee's pain.

The whole process, from writing down the list to working through everything in his mind, had taken him nearly twelve hours. Twelve hours of self-induced panic and pain. But he knew he had to do it. Knew he had to do something; something that would temper his emotions so his anger and pain didn't fester and erupt again. He supposed he could always try and get a therapist to help him, but just who would believe him when he told them he had spent over thirty years trapped in an alternate dimension? No one. That was who. It was a preposterous situation and everyone would think him crazy if he told. Not to mention the fact he sort of, technically, didn't exist. Despite that, he knew he had to come to terms with everything in his life, so the only other option was that he would have to go through it all alone. But that was alright; he was strong. He'd be able to do it.

Now, during that time, he hadn't bothered to go out of his lab, not wanting to be around anyone while he was fixing himself. Mabel had come down once, around eight hours into his process, bearing a plate of the cheap pasta Stanley liked to buy, saying that his brother was worried and wanted to make sure he was eating. Stanford had accepted it, doing his best to hide the tired slump of his back, the pained look in his eyes. Judging by the girl's frown, he wasn't sure he had been completely successful. He ate as quickly as he could and had sent the girl back up, telling her to tell his brother that he was fine, that he was simply working on a project and was busy. She had accepted it reluctantly and moved away. With a sigh, he had returned to his self-healing, needing to finish it all that day, not wanting to have to stretch this out.

Once he had finished, once he had gone through every instance of pain, he had gotten up and went to bed, his mind and body exhausted. He wasn't close to being done with fixing himself, but he had gotten a good start. He had determined what instances triggered the most anger or fear in himself and had written them down. Over the next several months and years, he would do his best to work through those issues and fix them. He would treat it like an experiment, spending months working towards a certain goal. Only instead of learning about science, he was mending his cracks. It would work. It had to.

That night he had had many nightmares, about his brother, his parents, and the void. He had expected it, after the emotional day he had had. They had shaken him greatly, but he pushed them to the back of his mind. Perhaps it wasn't healthy, but he would deal with the nightmares once he had dealt with the more pressing issues he had. It wouldn't do to overwhelm himself.

He had then spent the following three days out of his lab, connecting with the children and his twin, having read that that was another thing he needed to do to move on. However, he had done his best to act normal around them all, not really wanting anyone else to pick up on his mental distress, especially the children. They were too young to understand, too young to be burdened by his problems. As for his brother, well, he had already done enough to hurt the man. He didn't want to force him to deal with all this.

That was another thing; he found that being around his brother had been difficult. It was disheartening to know that whenever he had been in the same room as his twin, he had felt tense, with guilt and shame flooding through his veins. He had done his best to treat his brother normally, but he had the feeling his twin had picked up on his tremulous emotions. After all, Stanley had always been very perceptive, when he wanted to be.

He desperately wanted to fix things with his twin, wanted to apologize, to make things better, but he didn't know how. He had hurt his twin; he had hurt Lee. How could he make that better? The more time that passed, the more time that he spent around his twin with that damned awkward tension, the more things had started to feel hopeless. He wanted to fix himself, to fix things with his twin, but he just didn't know _how_.

So he was sort of stuck. Trying to make things right, trying to make himself whole again, but having no idea how. Not to mention he still had the tear in the universe, plus Bill, to worry about. Everything together… it almost seemed like it would be too much. But he couldn't give up. He would just have to go about this with baby steps. Small things that would make his mind less wild, less shattered, while he worked on the bigger things gradually.

And now, with the twins looking at him like he was amazing, like he was a hero, he could feel his mind soothing. He could feel the panic in his heart relaxing a bit. He could feel some of the cracks mending. Not many, but enough that he could feel the difference. Enough that he had hope that he might be able to get through all of this.

"Grunkle Ford, you can't be serious! You really threw your shoe at a Category Ten Ghost?" Dipper exclaimed incredulously. Stanford suppressed a fond smile and nodded with faux solemnity.

"Dead serious, my boy. I had no idea what else I could do; I was backed against a wall with no way out, so I used the only thing I had on hand. My shoe. It worked, too; I was able to distract it long enough to find a silver mirror and trap it. Lesson for the two of you; if you're ever trapped with no way out, think of a way. Even the silliest or most bizarre of options could save your life. I learned that one from your Grunkle Stan." Stanford stated.

"Woah, cool. Hey, did Dipper ever tell you about the time we solved the mystery of Nathaniel Northwest?!" Mabel questioned, bouncing up and down in excitement. Shaking his head no, he listened as the child explained how she and her brother had found that Gravity Falls was founded by the 'eighth and a half' president, Quentin Trembly. He had a hard time believing her, but when Dipper backed her story up, he felt impressed, telling her as such. He felt his heart swell at the huge grin she gave in reply.

He then went on, continuing his tales about his findings. It was just as he was explaining his first encounter with pixies- horrible little creatures who liked playing tricks on humans, as he had regretfully found out- that he heard the floorboard creaking behind him. Instantly on edge, he turned to face the intruder, his mind racing to come up with ways to defend himself and the children, only to stop upon seeing his twin. He felt his heart rate calm itself only slightly as he took in the unexpected sight of his brother. Had he been listening into his stories?

Watching his twin, he noticed that Stanley looked terrified. The look he had gotten when they were children and their father had caught him doing something bad. Stanford could see the wheels turning in his twin's head, the man clearly trying to come up with a way out of this situation. However, all his brother did was stand there, frozen as the silence stretched awkwardly.

It was broken a few moments later by Mabel, the girl grinning as she jumped up and bounded over towards her 'Grunkle.' Stanford watched as the panicked look on his twin's face increased, feeling his heart clench at the sight. Why was his brother so afraid?

"Grunkle Stan! You're here! Come on, Great Uncle Ford was just telling us stories about his days in Gravity Falls. You should join us!" The girl chirped, tugging gently on his brother's hand as she did. He watched as Stanley stared down at her with widened eyes, shaking his head slightly.

"Uh, I don't know sweetie. I've got, uh, an important thing that I've got to do, right now…" His brother claimed, a nervous smile on his lips. Stanford frowned at the sight, wondering why his brother was lying so badly. He knew his twin pretty well; when the man wanted to lie, no one would ever be able to tell between the lie or the truth. He had learned that from their mother. So why was he lying to terribly now?

He heard, absently, as Dipper pipe in, helping his sister with her mission.

"Come on Grunkle Stan! Join us! I'm sure whatever it is you're working on can wait for a half an hour." The boy stated logically, smiling up at Stanley from his spot on the floor.

Stanford waited, his heart nearly stopped, as he watched his brother internally debated with himself, the man's eyes darting back and forth nervously before settling on him, eyes beseeching him. He then decided that it was time he gave his input, wondering if that would make his twin less nervous. Nodding slowly, he looked his brother in the eyes.

"Yes. I'm sure whatever you're working on can wait, Stanley. If you'd like to listen, you should stay."

A long moment passed, the two of simply staring at the other, a familiar spark passing between them. He watched, heart pounding, as his brother nodded slowly, an absent smile growing on his lips as he moved to sit down next to him. Stanford felt like grinning, his heart singing with happiness (progress!) but he kept it inside.

And so, his mind humming blissfully, he began his stories again, dictating all the wacky misadventures he had gone through over the years, his grin just a bit wider than it had been originally. He listened as his twin grumbled and rolled his eyes, telling him he was an idiot for trying half the things he had done, but with a fond smile on his face.

And it was perfect.

* * *

To be honest, it wasn't the weirdest thing he had walked in on his brother doing. In fact, compared to some things (which he refused to even think about), this was pretty tame. It was still pretty bizarre, though.

Sixty years old and bemused, Stanford stared at his twin, who was as red as a tomato and clearly mortified. The child in him felt glee at the expression, knowing that he would have teasing material for the next several weeks. The adult, however, was merely bemused. And mildly amused.

The past several days had been good. Not great, but good. His mind had been calmer, he noticed, ever since he had told the stories of his life to the children and Stanley. Some of the broken cracks had mended, had been soothed by the time spent with his remaining family. By taking a small step forward towards fixing things with his brother. It made him smile, to think that he was getting better.

Things with his brother had also been better. He felt less awkward around the man, less hesitant. He smiled easier, laughed more genuinely, and even shared some inside jokes with his twin. He had also managed to strike up a conversation about a mythological creature he had once studied while out in the woods, and had learned to his surprise that Stanley was actually quite knowledgeable about the subject. They had spent almost an hour talking about the creatures they had seen over the years, Stanley with some derision while Stanford spoke with the interest he had once felt. Even after all that time in the multiverse, the supernatural still fascinated him, and he was glad to be able to speak freely with the man who used to be his best friend. It was nice to see their relationship mending, slowly but surely.

And now here he was, in prime condition to tease his brother, like old times. He already had about a hundred jokes that he had come up with, but he held back. He wanted to let his brother sweat for a minute; served the man right, after all the times he had made fun of him as children.

"I… I can explain." His brother said nervously, straightening up and turning the device off. Stanford simply raised an eyebrow in question and leaned casually against the doorway, waiting to see how far his brother was willing to go in his attempt to 'explain.'

A minute passed in silence as Stanley opened and closed his mouth, clearly trying, and failing, to come up with a plausible explanation. It was with amusement that Stanford watched as his brother hunched over with defeat, shoving his hands in his pockets while he glared at the object that had caused his mortification.

Honestly, Stanford truly didn't see what the big deal was. It really wasn't that bad. He just knew that it appeared to cause his brother embarrassment, and that his brother's embarrassment gave him joy, which was how it should be. After all, they were siblings. Siblings were supposed to take joy in their sibling's misfortune, right? Just as long as it was about something frivolous, of course. It was nice to feel something so common, for once, instead of anger or hatred.

He looked down at the small record player and chuckled as he stepped into the room, the first time he had done so since he had returned from the multiverse. He took a second to look around the room in interest, noting all the differences from how it looked before, back when it was a cluttered study he had barely used. He had to admit, he liked it better now, seeing all the little things his brother had acquired in his life. Yeah it was messy, but it was distinctly Stanley. He liked that. It reminded him of their childhood, back when he could hardly find anything in their room due to Stanley's unique organization habits. He ignored the small pang inside of him as he discretely looked around, not wanting to ruin his rare good mood. Besides, it didn't even surprise him anymore, just how much he still missed his twin.

Done with his quick glance around the room, he walked over to the record player and looked down at the record his brother had been playing. He smiled softly at seeing the Lake Guys' Greatest Hits album, featuring their song Great Reverberations. Ah yes, Stanley had been obsessed with that band for a brief time, hadn't he? He distinctly remembered his brother, age fourteen, begging their parents to let him go to one of their concerts, only to get shot down. His twin had then spent the next month saving up money, with Stanford's help, and bought the tickets behind their parent's backs, leaving in secret while Stanford had covered for him. He felt a smile form on his face as he remembered.

"I remember you would listen to this all the time when we were younger; you used to love this band, didn't you?" Stanford asked a moment later, looking up at his twin. He could feel nostalgia filling him, his eyes soft as he caught his brother's startled eyes.

"Er… yeah. I guess. They had good music." Stanley muttered, his cheeks still red with embarrassment. But Stanford could tell by the way his brother held himself that he also felt a bit… pleased. He stared, memories of their shared youth flooding his mind.

Suddenly, he didn't feel like teasing his twin anymore. Not when his mind was fluttering with old, forgotten memories, his heart full of melancholy and nostalgia. Instead… instead he had a better idea. An idea that was incredibly stupid, but that would help put his brother at ease. An idea that would put him at the mercy of his twin. An idea that would maybe, just maybe, help mend things some more. Or ruin them further. But he had the need to try.

So he smiled softly as he placed the record back on the record player, starting the song from the beginning. As the music began, he moved out towards the middle of the room, beside his brother, taking his long coat off as he went. He felt a little naked without it to protect him, but he told himself that he would survive without it for a little while. He was with Lee; he didn't need to hide from him.

"There was a dance that you used to do for this song, wasn't there?" He stated, like he hadn't caught his brother dancing it a few moments ago, knowing that it was probably the best way to get his brother to calm his embarrassment. "How did it go again?"

And then, clumsily, he began to dance. Awkward, clunky movements that were similar to, but clearly far worse than, the fluid movements his brother had been doing a moment before hand. He felt ridiculous doing it, but he refused to stop. He needed to show his twin that he wanted to fix things. He needed to make this first move. He couldn't pass up this chance.

A few moments passed, his twin simply staring in shock, before he shook his head.

"No, no. You've got it all wrong, Poindexter." His brother said, though he could see a small grin growing on his twin's face. Elated, Stanford stopped and raised an eyebrow in challenge, knowing that that would appeal to his brother the most.

"Oh yeah? Well, why don't you show me how it's done then, doofus?" He challenged, though he found that he could barely conceal his own grin. He watched, his heart lifting, as his brother got a determined gleam in his eyes.

"Fine, I will. First, ya gotta twist your hips, like this. Then, you move your feet…" His brother explained, showing the movements with his body as he described them. Stanford watched for a minute, before attempting them himself, a bit better than before, but not by much. But it didn't matter, not when his brother was laughing like that, his head tossed back and his eyes closed. Like it had used to be. Like it was always supposed to be.

When the song ended, the next one played, the two of them adjusting their dancing to fit the new tempo. He felt his heart lifting as he danced, letting all the pain and hopelessness he still had in his heart drain away, if only for that moment. He looked at his twin and felt joy at seeing the usually beaten down man looking happier than Stanford had seen in decades. Stanley had always been more carefree than he had been when they were children, but it had been so long since he had seen it. So long since he had experienced it. It was euphoric, to see his brother be so free of reservations; he suddenly saw why his brother had enjoyed dancing so much when they were teens, if this is what it did to him. Part of him wished he had taken his twin up on the offer to join him at the club, back then.

The best part was the feeling of familiarity, he had to say. It reminded him so much of their childhood, of summer days spent out by the beach, jumping around to the old radio their father had given Stanley for Chanukah one year. He knew he was making a fool of himself, and yet for this moment, he just didn't care.

Several minutes passed that way before he heard a noise at the door, the pattering of feet stopping abruptly as a small, shocked gasp sounded. Since he had already been facing the door, all he had to do was look up to see that it wasn't an intruder or anything, it was just the children. He heard as Mabel let out a loud squeal, bouncing up and down in excitement.

"Oooh! Old timey dance party!" The girl squealed, her brother watching on awkwardly in confusion. He saw as his own twin spun around, his cheeks red again as he got caught dancing for a second time. Deciding that his own mortification could wait, he grinned at the two and beckoned them over.

"Dipper, Mabel! Come join us!" He shouted over the music. He watched happily as Mabel nodded furiously and jumped right in, her arms flailing wildly to the tunes. Dipper, more reserved than his twin, simply remained where he was, shifting awkwardly. Stanford watched as Stanley, over his brief moment of embarrassment, walked over to the boy and dragged him in. He grinned as he turned towards Mabel, trying to copy what she was doing with her arms, but obviously failing.

"Come on kid, don't be a wet blanket. Dance." He heard his brother demanded lightly, before moving over to where he and Mabel were dancing. Stanford looked over towards his great nephew and saw that the boy, while in the room, was still standing around awkwardly, moving with jerking motions to the music. Nudging Mabel, he nodded over towards Dipper, indicating that the girl should go over to her twin and get him to loosen up a bit. Nodding, she bounced over to her brother and took his arms, forcing him to dance while he protested lightly. But, pretty soon, even he was laughing, dancing just as wildly as his twin was, though not nearly as fluidly, the good spirits in the room effecting him as well. Stanford could hear his twin laughing heartily as he danced over to where Dipper was dancing to join his great nephew, the two of them doing their awkward movements together.

When the record ended half an hour later, all four of them collapsed to the ground, exhausted, but with the biggest grins on their faces as they laughed and told jokes.

He honestly had no idea what had possessed him to do this. He knew that it was out of character, for him. But he guessed… he guessed that he had just wanted to feel something. Something other than the pain and sorrow. He had wanted to mend things with his twin, and he had wanted to prove to himself that they could, one day, be alright. But, whatever it was that had caused him to do it, he was glad that he had. Leaning against his brother, Dipper sitting between his extended legs, Mabel sitting between his brother's, he felt more content than he had in decades. Being so carefree with his twin, acting so childlike… it made him want to sing with joy.

And while he knew that things were far from perfect now, that they still had their issues to work out, it was still a giant step forward from where they had been.

And that was all that mattered in the moment.


	12. Chapter 12

Last chapter, everyone!

I want to take this time to thank everyone who has read this. It means a lot to me that you did.

I gotta say, it's hard to believe that I wrote over 40,000 words in a couple of weeks, and that I wrote over 70,000 words over the span of under two months. I think that's the most I've ever written in such a short amount of time.

Anyway, this chapter is mostly about wrapping everything up. Dealing with the name issue, as well as everything else. The reason I'm posting this so late is because I spent the last hour editing this chapter, so hopefully you all will like it.

Now, I'm thinking of perhaps editing this whole story, as well as The Life of Pines. I'd change some things, add some more details; things that would make the story flow better. It won't be for a little while, maybe once school has died down a bit, but I thought I'd mention so that if anyone reads this again, they won't get confused when little details change.

Also, I'm gonna have to put a halt on the one shots for a little while. I've got a lot going on in my life, what with school, family, and health issues, so while I've got two one-shots partially written, I don't know if I'll be able to finish them anytime soon. I'll make sure to add a little notification to this story when I get around to posting the one shots. Question though: Would you prefer them to be put into one story, like a collection of one-shots, or would you prefer them all to be individual? I don't mind either way, so if you have a preference, just tell me, either in a comment/review or in a Private Message.

Last thing. If anyone was curious, or if anyone wanted to ask me questions not here on AO3/FF . net, I do have a Tumblr. My URL is SpikeisAwesome456 (reference to Buffy the Vampire Slayer), if anyone wants to look me up.

Now, onto the story! Remember to review/comment!

* * *

 _~~~We won, or we think we did~~~_  
 _~~~When you went away, you were just a kid~~~_  
 _~~~And if you lost it all- and you lost it- ~~~_  
 _~~~Well at least the war is over~~~_  
 _~~~Lift your head and look out the window~~~_  
 _~~~Stay that way for the rest of the day and watch the time go~~~_  
 _~~~Listen! The birds sing! Listen! The bells ring!~~~_

 _-In Our Bedroom After the War, Stars_

* * *

He stared after the bus, waving towards the children who were sitting in the back row, frantically waving back out of the bus window.

Sixty years old and melancholy, Stanford continued standing by the bus stop, even after the bus was out of view, only moving when his twin turned and left abruptly. Following his brother, he tried not to let the sadness affect him too much.

It had been a wild and insane summer. Not to mention tiring. So much had happened in a few short weeks; he still hadn't wrapped his mind around it.

It was a shock to him that Bill was gone. Forever. They had managed to find a way to trap the demon back in his hell dimension, fixing the tear in the universe in the process. And while most of him felt relieved that Bill was gone, he was ashamed to admit that a part of him would actually miss the triangle. No matter how twisted and evil the demon had turned out to be, at one point Bill had been his friend. And the old, nostalgic part of him would miss the friendship they had. But it was only a small part, a part so insignificant he didn't even bother acknowledging it. Especially not after what Bill had done to his great niece and nephew. After what he had almost done to his brother.

However, probably the worst part of the summer, outside of nearly dying at the hands of an old friend, was seeing what had happened to Fiddleford. It had pained him greatly to see what the brilliant man had been reduced to. An old, homeless, and crazy man who hadn't even been able to recognize him that first meeting. He was not ashamed to admit that he had broken down upon seeing the shell of his friend, not caring that his family had been beside him. He had known that Fiddleford had gone insane, but seeing the degree of insanity that the once brilliant man was infected with… well, it had been too much. The twins and Stanley had been concerned, but he had been unable to fully explain why it hurt so much; unable to explain just how much guilt he felt. But by the understanding way the three of them had looked at him once he had finally contained himself, he thinks they understood. Fiddleford, on the other hand, hadn't understood. But, from what his brother told him, Fiddleford didn't understand much nowadays. It was heart breaking, but he vowed that one day he'd restore Fiddleford to his former glory. The man didn't deserve to live like this because of his mistakes.

And then, on top of all of that, there was the problems he still had with his brother. Living with his brother after everything had been hard. Even after their step forward, even after they had called their silent truce, tension remained. Stanford tried not to feel it, tried to ignore it, but it was always there. And sometimes, when the days were bad and his mind played tricks on him, he couldn't keep it all contained and would snap at his twin, causing a minor argument to happen. It didn't help that he profoundly disapproved of his brother's business habits. Seeing his twin scam people, watching as he took their money with glee… It was concerning. His brother was better than that. He only wished his twin saw that. Not to mention that he was doing it all under his name.

And that was another problem. No matter how much time had passed, no matter how comfortable he had become, he still wanted his life back. His name back. Hearing people call his twin Stanford, not being able to go out of the house for fear that someone would demand what was going on… it was taking its toll on him. Existing but not _technically_ existing was frustrating. He just wanted things to go back to normal.

However… however, he also didn't want to lose his brother. He didn't want to kick Stanley out, not after everything that had happened. But he didn't know what he could do; Stanley Pines was dead and they couldn't both be Stanford. How could they possibly make things right? How could they fix this mess that his brother had put them in?

He didn't know. But as he followed his twin inside the 'Shack,' walking into the living room and sitting down at the table, he knew that he had to try. He couldn't lose his twin, not after everything they had been through that summer. Not after almost losing him to Bill. He couldn't.

The silence between them, though, was thick and awkward. Like it tended to be around them nowadays, whenever the twins weren't around. He tried to think of something to say, but he honestly didn't know what. What could he say? Where did he start? How could he try and make amends when he still felt his fair share of anger and hurt towards his twin? How exactly did he encompass that while he may still be angry at the man, he also didn't want him to leave? That he wanted them to fix things, gradually, with the time they had left in this world? He just didn't know, and he could practically feel the silence stretch as he tried to come up with the right words.

He let out a sigh after a moment, picking absently at the sweater that Mabel had made for him a couple weeks ago, looking at the dark fabric. It was a dark maroon color, similar to the shade of his journals, with a golden six finger hand skillfully knitted into the center. When the girl had first presented it to him, he had felt his heart swell. It was touching, that the girl would make him something personal. He had even given the girl a small hug, something he rarely ever did since that much physical contact still made him tense up after his time in the multiverse. The girl had simply grinned up at him and said it was no problem, but he still made sure to wear it as often as he could. He noticed that his twin did the same with his 'World's Greatest Grunkle' sweater. He still recalled the expression on Stanley's face when the girl had presented the gift to his brother, a look of awe and wonder, like his twin couldn't believe that his great niece would make something like that for him. When the girl had worriedly asked him if he minded the words, he had made sure to smile and tell her that he didn't mind being second in this case. After all, anything that made his twin smile like that was fine with him.

He looked up a second later, taken from his absent thoughts when he heard his twin speak.

"So." His brother started, before trailing off, clearly as lost as he was as to where to start. It made sense; while the two had their minor truce, they were still light years from what they used to be. How could they possibly mend the bridge from the ashes? How could they make amends when so much anger still lived in them both? Because he had no doubt that Stanley was still angry and hurt from his actions all those years ago, from leaving him behind without a backwards glance. How did they make that hurt go away? He didn't know, but hopefully allowing his twin to stay would be a good place to start.

"So." He replied, before also stopping. He shifted awkwardly, trying to come up with the right words, trying to ignore the deafening silence that the twin's absence caused in this worn down old house. It honestly shouldn't hurt as much, seeing as how he had only known them a scant month, but he felt their absence keenly as the silence stretched. Part of him wanted to just go into his room (which he had finally gotten back from Soos, the large gopher man) and simply sleep the day away, to worry about everything tomorrow. But he couldn't. He needed to make sure his brother knew his plan.

It was after another minute had passed that he realized he had to just go out and say it. There was no beating around the bush, no sweetening the pot. He just had to rip it off, like a Band-Aid.

"Look, Stanley… clearly, we need to talk." He stated, watching as his brother jerked back, clearly startled from the sudden noise. Stanley then turned to face him slowly, anxiety and muted fear clear on his face as he nodded. Stanford could see how scared he was, but he needed to speak these words. He needed to make sure his brother understood, completely.

"I want my name back." He claimed, looking at his brother intently and watching as the man's face crumbled. God this was unpleasant, but he needed to power through. "I want my house back. I want my life back. That much has not changed over the past month."

"However," He interjected before his brother could say something, the man's face too blank for him to not have come up with the wrong conclusion, "I do not want you to leave. I... I understand that this is your life. It would be cruel of me to take it from you. So, we need to come up with a solution. An answer that will allow me my life back, but will also allow you to stay. Luckily, I've come up with a few ideas…"

He watched, for a second, as his brother's face brightened and as that look of awe and wonder was painted on his face. God, it was like looking at a picture, a snapshot from their youth. The wrinkles and grey hair did nothing to change the look his brother got whenever Stanford did something that he deemed unexpected. It made him long for those childhood days, when the simplest of gestures could cause that look to form, but he forced himself to get his head out of the clouds. He had some half formed ideas to explain.

To be honest, none of the ideas he had were very good. Honestly, brainwashing the whole town into thinking that Stanley had been Stanley all along, the man never having taken over his name, and instead had simply been watching over the house for him while he had been away on a thirty year long trip around the world? Definitely not one of his better plans. But what else could they do? How else could they fix their name and identity problem without having his brother be sent to jail for identity theft? He continued to ramble off the half-baked ideas he had thought up over the past two-three weeks, each getting more and more far-fetched as they went on, until he ran out of words. He watched as his brother looked him in the eye and began to speak.

"Or, we could always just tell a version of the truth." What? He was about to interject, wondering if his brother had lost his mind (Stanley, wanting to tell the truth? Something must be wrong) but was stopped when his brother held up a hand. "Look, I've lived in this town for long enough to know how stupid they all are, especially the cops. If we go down to Town Hall and tell them a dumbed down version of what happened, we could get our name situation sorted out, get all my crimes I did under your name put back under my own, resurrect me from the dead… it would work, they're stupid enough to do it. Yeah, it'd take a lotta work, but it'd be a lot simpler than any of your bright ideas. And, if it doesn't work, you can just mind control everyone." His brother finished with a careless shrug.

It was insane. It was preposterous. It would never, in a million years work. But… his brother sounded so sure. He considered it, contemplating the mechanics of the plan. Well, it certainly was simple. It was just like Stanley to come up with a plan so simple, and yet so complicated. While yes, he supposed it had the possibility of working, there were so many things that could go wrong. Such as if his brother was wrong and the police _did_ decide to arrest him. But…

"Do you really think it would work?" He asked, frowning as he continued to work everything out. Perhaps if they… and then, if city hall… but what if… He was jolted out of his thoughts when his twin bumped casually against his shoulder, so quick he doubted Stanley even noticed that he had done it.

"Trust me, it'd work. Just leave the talking to me and I'll get everything sorted." His brother claimed, a charming grin on his face, though Stanford could see the cracks in it, like his twin expected him to deny him the trust. Well, it was asking a lot, considering everything that had happened between them, but nearly losing his brother made him realize that life was too short to hold a grudge. Besides, even after everything, he found that he did still trust his twin.

And so, he simply nodded and said, "Alright Stan, if you think it'll work. I trust you."

He watched as his brother stared at him open mouthed, nodding absently in shock. With a shy smile, Stanford decided that he better leave now, before anything happened to ruin this moment. He left the room briskly and headed down to the lab, wanted to be alone for a while. Maybe he'd even be able to work on some projects that didn't revolve around Bill and his evil plans, for once.

Once in the lab, though, all he could do was stare at the pictures he kept on his desk. He smiled bittersweetly as he picked up the picture of the twins smiling up at the camera, a photo he had found shattered on the ground while cleaning up his lab. He assumed it was his brother's, but he had yet to return it to the man, preferring to keep it as his own little memento. It made his heart ache, remembering that the two were no longer there, but it was a nice reminder of them. To be able to see their smiling faces every day. He understood why his brother would keep it down here with him.

He then put the picture down and picked up the other, far older one that his brother had gifted him a week ago. He smiled as he saw his and his brother's younger selves, grinning innocently at the camera, no clue that in only a few short years something would happen that would tear them apart forever. So innocent and naïve they were. It made him yearn for a time things were that good. When the only problem he and his brother had was what type of wood they would need for the Stan O' War. Things were so simple back then, not messy and complicated like things were now.

He sighed, heart heavy, as he set that one down as well. He then leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling, letting out a mirthless chuckle while running a hand through his bushy hair.

He hoped that he and his brother were able to work everything out. He missed his twin, his best friend, more than he could say. He needed to know that they could work things out, that they could become friends again. After everything that had happened in his life, he needed his brother's friendship more than anything. But things were looking up, now that they had their tentative plans. He could feel some of the previous doubts he had had disappear, though a bunch still remained. It was a rough plan, but it might just work. He just had to try and keep positive.

Deciding that he would be unable to work on anything with his mind racing, Stanford instead took out a journal, different to his three research Journals that he had gifted Dipper. This one was white with no design in the center, as he had yet to come up with one. Opening the journal, he then started to write everything down that had happened that day. It seemed that one thing that helped him deal with his emotions was seeing them written down. So, even though it made him feel a bit silly, he made sure to write in his new journal at least once every few days. In his writing, he tried to understand what he was feeling, understand what his brother was feeling. It was difficult; he had never really understood how humans worked. He was more a science guy, not an emotions guy. But he also didn't want to ever explode again. He didn't want to hurt his brother. So, for Stanley- and for his own peace of mind- he would try.

Once done, he closed the journal and sat back, sighing and running a hand through his hair once more.

Things were difficult now. He knew that. After all, he was still recovering from everything he had gone through. He technically didn't exist. He and Stanley were still broken, even if they were mending slowly. He had no idea what to do about Fiddleford. He missed the children with an intense ache.

But he would survive. He was working on healing himself, and it seemed to be working. He and Stanley would sort out their name problems soon. Things would get fixed things between him and his brother, somehow. He would heal Fiddleford as best he could, perhaps by building a machine that could reverse his insanity. And, he would content himself to seeing the children next summer, or perhaps for Chanukah or Yom Kippur.

Things would get better. Time healed all wounds, after all.

And that would have to be good enough.

* * *

Epilogue:

* * *

He sat down on the couch beside his brother, talking about a project he was working on, explaining in detail the difficult process he had went through to create it. He knew his brother wasn't listening, but he didn't care. Sometimes it was nice to get his ideas out, and it was less insane to tell it to a real person than to just ramble to himself down in his lab.

Sixty one years old and content, he switched his focus from his words to the children who were playing out in the lawn, smiling as he saw the game they were playing. He didn't quite get the point of the game, but as long as they were having fun, he supposed it didn't matter. It was nice to see, a bit of innocence after everything that had happened. However, even as he watched them, he could feel his thoughts sour somewhat as he thought about the past year, when they hadn't been there.

The last year had been difficult for him. Living after the multiverse, dealing with the problems after that… it was hard. Not to mention the tooth-pulling process of getting his name back. It had taken Stanley over three months to convince the town hall that he was, in fact, not Stanford Pines and was instead Stanley Pines. The paperwork and the meetings with lawyers had been exhausting.

There was also the fact that he sometimes forgot where he was and thought that he was back in the multiverse, or even back in the void. There had been times he would be working in the lab and then something would remind him of a battle he had fought, and he was left clutching the counter or the table, doing his best to get his breathing under control even as panic filled his heart.

And the nightmares… oh, the nightmares. There were some nights that he would wake up screaming, his mind full of horror and pain and fear. He'd forget completely where he was, convinced that he was still lost. During those times, Lee would come rushing in and do his best to get him to calm down. It had taken a while for his twin to get the comforting thing down right (that first time his brother had completely freaked out, even going as far as calling for an ambulance to come) and to stop pestering him for details that he still could not give, but his brother had gotten better over the past year. Now he would simply sit with him, a comforting hand resting lightly between his shoulders as he reassured Stanford that he was there, that he was safe now. He didn't think that Lee knew how much that helped him. It was still a horrifying thing to go through, though, having to deal with his mind creating unimaginable horrors. It had made things so much more difficult for him. Made it harder to deal with reality.

He had also fought with his twin a lot. Nothing too major, but minor squabbles that stuck in mind for days. Words that had been said with the sole intension of hurting the other. Yes, they always made up after, actually apologizing more often than not, but it still hurt. To hear his brother say such ugly things to him; to hear himself say such ugly things to his brother. To watch as his brother storm out of the house, fury and pain written on his face. It had gotten less and less frequent as the year passed, but each moment stuck in his mind like glue.

However… even with the nightmares and all the bad things that had went on, he supposed that there was some good that had happened. Like how he had managed to help Fiddleford out a bit. While he had been unable to invent a machine that would fix his friend's mind, like he had originally hoped, he had been able to spend time with the man. To be a friendly face that would ground him. It had been hard, watching as one of his best friends broke down and cried because he couldn't remember, but he had stuck through it. After all, he understood everything that Fiddleford was going through. Losing one's mind was never an easy thing to get over, but he wouldn't rest until his friend was better. And it was heartening that it seemed to be working. With every day that passed, during the hour that he set aside each day to visit Fiddleford, he could see his friend improve. Could see him remember more and more.

Another good thing, he supposed, was that he and his brother _had_ gotten over a lot of their issues. Their fights, while bad, did lead to them sorting their issues out. They would actually speak to one another after they had cooled down, talking rationally about how the fight had effected them, as well as any other issue they had. They even spoke about how they felt, something they had never bothered to do as children. It was hard, especially since Lee had always been visually uncomfortable while doing it, but it helped. To not bury everything, to get things out into the open. It made him understand his twin better, and he felt that it helped his twin understand him better. He wasn't sure which of them had decided that they needed to speak after each fight, though he thought that it might have been both of them, both knowing that it was something that needed to be done.

And, yet another good thing was the fact that he had managed to restart his Journals. He would go out and wander the woods sometimes, exploring the more tame creatures that lived in there. He couldn't deal with the bigger ones, not without having a mild panic attack, but the little ones he was fine with. He would even bring his brother out with him sometimes, exploring like they had when they were kids. He had to admit that it was familiar and nice.

He also spent a lot of his time inventing. Down in his lab, working on projects that had been floating around inside his head for years while he had been wandering. He created useful things, and frivolous things, and downright bizarre things. But it made him feel normal. Like things were normal.

There were also times that he helped his brother out with his 'business' sometimes, when he felt up to it. He still didn't approve of scamming people, but it made him feel better that his brother had allowed him to actually teach the tourists something, so it wasn't a complete scam. He would explain about the supernatural and would show them drawings he had created, as well as teaching them about science and math. The tourists seemed to like it, always leaving with smiles on their faces, which made him feel glad. At least he was helping the world learn somewhat, even if it was just a handful of tourists. So he guessed that was good.

And now, now it was summer again. A whole year since he had returned. The twin were back, their laughter and happiness filling the Shack once more. That had made things infinitely better. His nightmares had faded somewhat with their presence, not being as fierce as they had been. His brother had only had to rush to his room once in the past three weeks, which was a record.

So things weren't as bad as they could have been, he supposed as he watched the children play. And at the very least, he wasn't still trapped, lost in the multiverse. No matter how many troubles he had while adjusting here on Earth, it was still infinitely better than if his twin had never brought him back.

He was pulled out of him thoughts when he started to notice just how dark it had become. He took a glance at his watch and noticed that it was nearing seven in the evening, a half hour past the time they usually ate dinner. It surprised him a bit, having not noticed the time passing. However, he supposed it made sense that he hadn't noticed. While he had gotten better at noticing time, he still sometimes let it get away from him, hours passing without his notice.

He turned to his twin, who was wearing a soft smile while his eyes tracked the children.

"Stanley, don't you think it's getting a bit late? We should probably have dinner soon." He said, watching as his twin startled out of his reverie and looked around at the darkening lawn. Lee then nodded his agreement and stood up with a soft grunt of discomfort.

"Kids! Time for dinner! Get your butts in here or I'm not feeding you." Lee yelled out to the two children, who both stopped their game and rushed over, large grins on their face. He noticed that his niece's pet pig had followed the two, looking up at him with a small oink. He smiled down at the thing awkwardly, never quite sure what to make of it but acknowledging that he was Mabel's favorite thing in the whole world, and thus doing his best to be kind to him. And it wasn't like the pig was that hard to like. He was cute, Stanford supposed.

Looking back up at his family, he saw that his brother and the twins were heading inside. He then followed after them, the pig waddling along after him. Entering the kitchen, he took his usual seat at the table and briefly looked over at his twin, who was currently setting out some water to boil. While his twin wasn't the best cook, he was infinitely better than Stanford ever had been. He was certain that if it hadn't been for Fiddleford and canned food, he would have starved within a month of arriving at college.

Though, he had to admit, the food his brother used to favor had left something to desire. While he was glad to simply get any food, after years of having to fight for each meal, it had confused him as to why his twin purposely chose lower quality foods when they had the money to buy better kinds. Upon learning that it was because his twin had spent those ten years they had been apart constantly on the brink of starvation, he had felt horrified. After all, he knew what it was like to live that way, and he had never wanted that for Lee. So, after learning that, he decided to take up the grocery shopping, choosing mostly name brand foods that looked interesting. Things that they both deserved to eat after everything.

While waiting for the food to finish cooking, he decided to tell tales of his and Lee's adventures over the year to the children to bide the time. He settled on explaining the time the two of them had gotten trapped in a cave while searching for a creature that hated light, but had magical healing abilities. He made sure to embellish the details, like his brother had always told him when they were younger, doing his best to make the arguably boring tale sound like an amazing adventure. Judging by the enraptured way that the children were staring at him, and the soft, proud smirk that that Lee gave him when he turned from the stove to listen, he assumed he was doing pretty well.

Once dinner was ready, he took a bit of the pasta his brother had set out in the center of the table, smirking as he watched the children attacked the food with an almost alarming ferocity. Ah, age thirteen. He remembered that year well. The year he had become a 'man,' gaining a lot of awkward habits and body hair with it. Honestly, he did not miss that age whatsoever.

During dinner, Stanford listened to the twins as they argued about some creature they had found in the woods, Dipper claiming it was a pixie while Mabel insisted it was a fairy. He added his input occasionally, but mostly just let the two debate amongst themselves, knowing that it was a simple, friendly debate, not a full on argument or anything. If it did go too far, he knew that either he or his brother would intervene. While the twins debated, Stanford would occasionally look at his twin and smile at the content look he saw on Lee's face.

They had come a long way over the past year. Things were not perfect between them, and he had the feeling they never would be. He would always harbor some negative feelings towards his twin, just like he was sure Lee would always harbor some negative feelings towards him. Nothing would ever make that go away. But as long as they focused on the good, they could move past it. He knew they could.

So while there was a lot of bad still in his life, he had to admit he was happy. Sitting here with his family, listening to the twins argue playfully and watching his twin look so at peace, he could feel his heart swelling with content.

And that was more than he could ever have hoped for.


End file.
